


Anna-Marie: The Devil's Wife

by hannah1607



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Dark Character, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Oral Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:49:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannah1607/pseuds/hannah1607
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anne-Marie comes to England, with her youngest son, to claim Knighton Hall after her cousin and Uncle's deaths. Beautiful, ennobled and with all the tricks of the trade from the French court, she is considered the perfect would-be wife and courtier by most. Yet Sir Guy is not so easily swayed by her charms or her cunning and even Anne-Marie fears her demons will mass against her, if she does not escape the dangers of her old life. But has the web she spun caught her up in the lies she's told?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Devil's Wife

**Author's Note:**

> Recently I've been reading a lot of fanfics with Guy of Gisborne/OFC and as lovely as a lot of them are, with some great plots and brilliant characters, I've found myself getting a bit bored of the goody two-shoes girls that Guy gets put with. Don't get me wrong, I love the idea of Guy finding love and hope through someone else's love. But knowing how dark and dangerous this guy (pardon the pun) can be, I can never really imagine him falling for someone who was his entire opposite. Anyway, I've grown quite interested in the Medieval times and when doing a bit of research I found out a lot about the Crusades, King Richard and Prince John, so this is where the story stems from.
> 
> I have yet to put any archive warnings on this story, as I haven't finished it yet and for the most part the more explicit stuff is only talked about, rather than shown in great graphic detail. Even for me, it's still pretty grim and so I'm putting a warning note here, so I don't get people complaining about it afterwards. 
> 
> Events depicted are part of the character's nature (not mine - yeah, some people seem to think to be a writer you can't have an imagination!) and this is definitely not a Mary-sue I'd be willing to identify with! Secondly, I'm not sure how this story will turn out, so there may be some more gorey scenes later and if so I'll put up a little red flag, but that's why there aren't any warnings as yet. However, if you are of a nervous disposition either don't read it or read it and then don't complain. Sorry, I'm sure the most of you will be fine with this, but I am going for a more realistic view on Medieval life and so there's a nasty side to go with that as well.
> 
> Enjoy!

  
The Devil's Wife

I don't offer salvation.  
I offer only my loyalty, my dominion and all the darkness that comes with it.  
Make your choice, but make it wisely.  
For I am the Devil's Wife and hungry for power.

* * *

I was always worried about him. Always. I thought once he had grown a little more, could run and jump and trip and fall, scrape his knee, weep in my arms and then run back to playing with a cheerful little grin on his face, I thought I would not worry so. When he had been a babe in my arms, so soft and small and fragile and when I had first held him and was terrified in case I broke him, I thought that would fade in time. My boy grew bigger and stronger with each passing day, he had rooted for my breast and drank well, then when he was older he would always finish his dinner and run about with the older lads. Now we were in England, my boy in his litter with his nanny and I still felt frightened for him. Still knew that if he was snatched away from me I would not live.

I could barely remember these forests; they were just a dim memory belonging to summer visits and playing with my cousin and her friends. The leaves were turning golden brown, the dark wood entwining above our heads, sunlight flickered on the pathway and a distinct chill was in the air. This was England, my old home and it was autumn. The leaves would soon fall off the trees, the muddy ground would have a gold carpet for a few days and then it would become dank and dirty and winter would set in. I shivered and pulled my cloak tighter around me, I had forgotten the coldness of England and I wondered if I missed the warm autumns of southern France already?  
  
"Stay close, my lady. These woods are full of thieves and outlaws." my Captain of Guards, Clotaire, whispered.  
  
"You have your orders; guard my son with your life." I switched into French.  
  
"Of course, my lady." Clotaire turned to two of the nearest guards and said in French, "Edgard, Gaurin, stay near the litter."  
  
The two guards draw back a little, lingering by the litter but so as to not make it obvious they are guarding it. We continue onwards, the steady noise of horses' hooves, the creaking of the trees and the occasional cries of birds filling the silence. Clotaire suddenly motions with his hand to have us stop, we all do so and wait for his order. His shoulders are tensed, his brow furrowed, he places a finger to his lips when I begin to ask why we have stopped. Silence, except for the soft moaning of wind and the call of a blackbird. My hand lingers by my sword, I will not be much use in a fight, but I can die trying. Clotaire shakes his head and gives me a reassuring smile, he raises his hand once more and indicates for us to go, but no sooner have our horses made a step forward does an arrow whistle through the air and hit the ground at our feet.  
  
"Ambush, draw swords." Clotaire cries, but as soon as I look back to the litter I see men with their faces masked surrounding us, they all wear dark, earth coloured clothes and all have their weapons drawn. Ynes tosses her head nervously and I gently stroke her neck, though I wonder if my horse can feel my own nerves as the leader of this gang makes his way towards Clotaire and I. His foot is sure, the swagger in his stride not kept hidden, he is pleased he has done this.  
  
"These woods are not safe, my lord and lady. Though I must confess I am impressed by your hearing, sir." the man says, I can feel a small tingle of shock run down my spine, as I recognise his voice, but cannot remember where I have heard it. I will myself to remember, for if I can perhaps I can gain some ground with this criminal. He will know that his own life is at stake.  
  
"I am no lord, sir." Clotaire says coldly, his accent becoming clearer as he speaks.  
  
"Ah a Frenchman. What is your duty then, sir?"  
  
"To guard this Lady, should you harm her, I will kill you like a dog." Clotaire growls and one of the taller outlaws steps forward threateningly. But the main man raises his hand and the man stops, instead the leader walks towards us both. I keep Ynes on a tight rein and force her back a little, when the man is too close, Clotaire wheels his round in front of mine. The gang rushes towards us, but once more the leader raises his hand and stops them.

"Alas for those who can afford it there is a charge to use this road." The man steps round the horse, while his fellows keep their bows drawn towards Clotaire, he approaches my side. "I trust the good lady will pay."

"I will pay nothing to you." I say, glaring down at the man. His grey eyes look up at me, shining with a smile clearly read on his eyes and his expression, but as he looks at me he suddenly frowns and shakes his head slightly. I glance at Clotaire who is watching us intently, should the man make any false move he will be dead.

"What's in the litter?" the leader asks.

I look down, fear tightening my throat, "Just some clothes and a serving maid of mine, should you try to harm her I will personally put the blade between your ribs."

"Oh a feisty one here!" taunts one of the men and the rest laugh, the leader laughs and turns back to me.

"I don't believe you."

I shrug, "I am not a fool to keep my jewels and an enormous amount of wealth on me while I travel." He looks as if he will turn aside, but he quickly runs towards the litter. Edgard attempts to stop him, but an arrow pieces his shoulder.

"Stay where you are." Shouts the man. My breath is caught in my mouth and I do not even think about it, I jump from my horse and run towards him, before a hand catches my arm in a vice like grip.

"No!" I call, "S'il vous plaît ne pas lui faire de mal.*" The man casts aside the curtain and I can hear the nanny inside give a terrified little scream, it feels as though the world will drop away from my feet, I am certain the man will either use my boy to steal everything from me or will think nothing of plunging his dagger into him. I cannot help it, my knees give way and I feel the prayer fall from my lips,

"Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.*"

One of the outlaws, a man with dark skin and eyes calls out, "Hood have some mercy."  
  
"So she can say her prayers, what of it?" the man holding my arm growls. The leader remains by the litter and it feels as though everyone watches him, waiting for some movement or command. Then his shoulders suddenly slump and he moves the curtain back over the litter, he walks towards us and the nods to his gang member.

"Let her go."  
  
"But…"  
  
"Let her go." The man's tight hold on my arm loosens and I shakily get to my feet, 'Hood' gently coaxes my horse and brings her to my side.

"Why did you not say you had a son?" he says gently.

"Why would I trust you not to kill him?" I ask.

Hood shakes his head, "I do what I think is right."

"Robbing a defenceless woman is right?"

"You have guards." he points out.

"I have my son to fear for."

"My lady," Clotaire says, I look up to him, "If this man is letting us go freely, I would not advise arguing against him."

Hood gives a soft chuckle, "Well spoken, sir." He helps me into the saddle, but does not let me ride off straight away, "Why did you say nothing?"

"Because he is my son and when it comes to his safety I trust no one but myself and Clotaire."

Hood nods and then lets go of my bridle, "And where are you heading to, my lady?"

"That is none of your concern."

"No, but the purse at your hip, which now resides in my hand is. Where are you heading?"

I glare at him as he brings out my purse, concealed by his cloak, "Give it back."

"Not until you answer me."

"Give. My. Purse. Back. Now." I hiss, but the man merely smiles and throws my purse up and down in his hand. I debate what my happen if I tell him and if I don't. It is my purse though, it has more than money in it and I desperately need it back. I am desperate to draw my sword and slice it across the man's face, but I control my anger and take a few deep breaths.

"Nottingham."

"I mean, where in Nottingham, the road you are taking leads there."

"You did not specify exactly where, sir." I snap.

"Then you will not get your purse back."

I keep my eyes fixed on his, before relenting, "Knighton."

Hood frowns, "But surely you are travelling to Knighton Hall in that case?"

"I will answer no more questions, give me back my purse." It looks as if he will demand more answers, but perhaps he has a sense of honour after all and tosses me back my purse, I secure it to my waist again.

"Good day, my lady." He gives a bow; I raise my head proudly and push Ynes forward, I will not act grateful to that dog. He and his men disappear into the woods, as quickly as they came and I urge my own guards forward, as we ride towards Nottingham.

* * *

Maybe I didn't get the grammar or form right...meh! It sounds good, who speaks French and Latin? Lol!

1st* Please do not hurt him. (French)

2nd* HAIL Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and in the hour of our death. Amen.


	2. Respect for the Dead

  
The village of Knighton is as I remember it, the houses and cottages surrounding it similar to the ones I had seen in Bordeaux, though perhaps a little squatter. Much like the English themselves, I thought and smirked. Then I remembered I too was English and not so tall for my own height, something my taller cousin had always teased me about, even though I was a little above average height. Still I did not have the dumpiness or roundness some English women had. I frowned a little; did I no longer see myself as English? I had only lived in France for eight years; I could hardly call myself a Frenchwoman. Though I had been married to a Frenchman and had borne him children…then was thrown off my estate as soon as I was a widow and with nothing to do other than to beseech the King of England or rather the brother he had left in his stead.

As soon as we arrive I jump off my horse, not waiting for Clotaire to dismount his and help me from mine. I run to the litter and pull back the curtains, Grégoire is still sitting with his nanny among the fine velvet cushions and blankets, but when he sees me he jumps up and quickly falls into my arms. I kiss his warm little head, dark curls brushing against my neck and he buries his face in my shoulder.

“You are safe, you are safe. We are here now, my little one.”

He looks up, “Who was that man, mama?” he says in French.

“A bad, wicked man. He did not hurt you?”

“No, mama. He just stared.”

“Though that was unnerving in itself, my lady.” Celine, his nanny, says.

I stand up, keeping Grégoire in my arms and letting Celine out from the litter. I put Grégoire down and kiss his forehead.

“Clotaire take Grégoire inside; see if there is any food to be found or if we have any servants at all.” I command, Clotaire gives a bow and then gently steers my boy into the house. “Edgard, Gaurin put away the horses in the stables and rub them down.”

“Yes, my lady.” they reply, Edgard takes mine and Clotaire’s horse into the stable, with Gaurin leading his and Edgard’s horse. Celine frowns and goes to follow Clotaire and my son, I grab hold of her wrist, holding her tightly. She lets out a gasp and whimpers.

“My lady, I…”

“You are not important. Not when it comes to my son. Were you not in my employment you would be nothing more than the dirt under my feet, understand? If someone threatens my son, dares to even lay a finger on him, you put yourself before him. You do not scream or whine; you protect my son.” I hiss and Celine’s eyes grow wide with terror, her cheeks pale. I keep my eyes fixed on her’s and tighten the hold on her wrist.

“Yes, my lady…I am sorry, my lady.”

I fling aside her arm, “Go inside, see that the bedrooms are in some semblance of order. The two best ones will be for my son and myself, the next best one is for Clotaire. Edgard, Gaurin can stay in the barracks, find yourself a truckle bed.”

“Yes, Lady Anne.” she gave a curtsey then hurried inside.

I stretched and rubbed my aching muscles; I had tried being nice to people before and hadn’t got me what I wanted. I had tried appeasing them, hoping that if I supported my peasants, poured the taxes they gave me not into my own luxury, but improving their own lives, they would show me respect and gratitude. But to them one master was no different from another and if you gave them one thing, they would then demand more, it was better to keep them in check. I had learnt that the hard way. I had wanted to show mercy and benevolence, taking interest in what they did and how their families were, but after the third time they wilfully disobeyed me, I swore it would never happen again.

“My lady, the barracks are small and ill equipped, it is no wonder outlaws are allowed to wander the roads and highways at will.” Clotaire said gruffly when I came in, Grégoire was sat at the table, his little wooden horse cantering over the oak edge and bringing up clouds of dust in its wake. My mouth curled into a sneer when I ran a finger through the dust and it left a grey coating on my finger.

“This is disgusting, has no one respect for the dead or the living here.” I murmured, Clotaire gave a shrug.

“I suppose no one anticipated our arrival.” he said. I sighed, despite my own determination of keeping my servants in check, I had wanted to rest and see them rested, but it looked like we had an afternoon of cleaning on our hands.

“Is there anything to eat?” I asked.

“No, my lady.” I could have quite easily let an oath pass my lips, but I eased my breathing once more and gripped my hands in front of me.

“Clotaire, you go into the village and see if you can find someone to pay for an afternoon of cooking and food. Edgard and Gaurin can clean the downstairs rooms, while Celine and I will do upstairs, once you return try to get the barracks in order; make a list of anything you will think we should need. Whoever you find for a cook, get them to make a list of everything we need here.” He gave a swift bow, pulled on his cloak and left the room, I heard him shout orders to Edgard and Gaurin in French.

“Mama, what should I do?” Gregoire looked up at me. “Nothing, mon agneau. You’ve had a long journey, once Celine and I have done your room you can come in there for a nap.”

“But there’s nothing else for me to do.” he whines. Who am I to demand my son doesn’t work when he offers his service? This is a rarity and will probably not happen till he breaks something of mine again. I hide my smile.

“Very well, would you like to clean the table and the stairs?” He nods eagerly, so when Edgard has cleaned the grate in the kitchen and got a fire going, we heat some water and I bring in a little bucket and cloth for my son. I can’t help my grimace when the water in the bucket slowly turns a grey colour very quickly, but at least the table is cleaned. Edgard sets about cleaning the fireplaces, while Gaurin wipes the surfaces. It is probably not what they had in mind when they joined me as my guards, but there are no other servants to do such tasks.

I run upstairs to join Celine. It feels strange going into my Uncle’s room and knowing it will be mine, the bed is made rather neatly, but there is still a fine coating of dust on all the wooden furniture. I go about the room, examining the wooden chest, the desk with its intricately curled pattern around the edge of the wood and the smooth, warm surface, the chair in the same design with a fabric seat and backing set into the wood. Like all the rooms before the shutters are closed against the weather and thieves, I pull back the heavily embroidered curtains, a soft dull green colour with golden thread and then open the shutters, cool air replacing the heated, stale air within the room. I turn back to the bed, it’s almost a pity the coverlet is so nice and so well designed. That and it matches the hangings and curtains.

“We will need new covers and sheets for the bed; I’m not sleeping in an old man’s death shroud.” I mutter. Yet more work! Was no one aware of our arrival or did our existence not matter to them, had my uncle and cousin never mentioned us to anyone? I shrugged and sighed, it hardly mattered, and there were just so many tasks that needed seeing to. Food needed to be brought, the barracks restoring, bed linen replacing, I needed to advertise for new servants and the place needed to be blessed by a Priest, I had no desire for returning spirits.

* * *

“My lady, this woman has offered to cook and clean for us a while. She has brought some food with her, which I’ve reimbursed.” Clotaire stood in the doorway, with a small, wiry woman, she had sharp eyes and grey hair, an apron tied around her middle and a scowl on her face that looked far from subservient.

“Good, thank you Clotaire and you, madam. But before you do, you will answer some questions I have.” I said.

“Depends what the questions are, madam.” she said, I glare at her, till she shifts her eyes away from my own.

“Firstly, you will address me properly, as I am a lady, both by birth and marriage. Secondly, you will not dictate to me which questions you will or will not answer, you shall answer them all truthfully, is that understood?” She nodded, eyes still downcast.

“Good.” I smiled thinly, “First question, where are my servants and why was the house not made ready for us? I sent a letter weeks ago.”

“Sir Guy of Locksley turfed them out and as we were not being paid no one returned.”

I scowled bitterly, again the name reminded me of someone, but I could not remember who that was and why was he turfing out my servants? “Last I was here, a man named Robin of Locksley owned Locksley Manor.”

“Well you’ve not been here for some time, my lady.” I bite my tongue against her rude tone. “Robin of Locksley went against the Sherriff of Nottingham and–”

“The Sherriff of Nottingham? Sir Edward?”

“Nay, my lady. He was…he retired from the post. The man in his stead is called Vaisey.”

“I was also under the impression that Lady Marian was to be married to Robin of Locksley.”

“Indeed she was, my lady.” The old woman’s face grew softer, clearly my cousin had been dear to these folks, “But Robin was made an outlaw and she died in the Holy Land, no one is exactly sure how.” I nodded, my mind reeling with thoughts…Robin an outlaw, was that the outlaw we met in the woods? Perhaps I could use this to my gain, I smirk. Before looking back to the woman and seeing a little boldness enter her eyes.

“Now may I ask who you are and who these French people are?” she snapped, I saw Celine and Clotaire tense, as though they would both willingly launch themselves at the old hag and bite her. But I made a gesture of calm, they were in England now, insults would readily fall upon us. I was probably being called a French whore already by someone in the nearby town.

“I am Lady Anne, widow to Lord Robert de Sauveterre. The people with me are loyal servants, including my Captain of Guards, Clotaire, his guardsmen, Edgard and Gaurin and the nurse to my son, Celine. My Uncle was Sir Edward and my cousin was Lady Marian, I am here to claim this land and property for my son, Grégoire, now heir to Knighton Hall.”

The old woman’s mouth falls open in shock and she instantly bows down in a lopsided curtsey, “Forgive me, my lady. I did not realise you had a real claim to the place, I thought you were…” she stops, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.

“You thought what?” I ask coldly.

“That…um…well, it’s just the way it looks…you see…”

“You, thought what?” I ask again.

She twists her hands and nervously looks down to the floor, “Well…that you were one of Vaisey’s or Sir Guy’s…”

“One of their what?”

“Um…I meant no offense, my lady. But you are the Lady Marian’s cousin, so I’m sure you will understand…” she simpers and I find myself growing quite irritated by this stupid peasant, “I thought you were one of the Sherriff’s or Sir Guy’s lackeys.” Her nervous little smile dawns on her face too quickly and before she knows it I have pulled back the hand holding my glove and struck her across the face. She gasps and pulls her hand to her cheek, I grab it.

“Let me make something quite clear. You are correct in your assumption, that I am not a lackey to either the Sherriff or Sir Guy, however, if Sir Guy owns Locksley and Vaisey is the Sherriff of Nottingham you will show them the respect and deference they deserve; not because you think it right, but because they were born to it and it is God’s decree that he should put them there. Finally, I am neither my cousin nor my uncle, in whatever way you were treated beforehand makes no difference to me or my authority over this place. I may share some similarities to my cousin, including my name, but that does not make me her. Vous comprenez?”

The old woman is shaking before me, but she nods her head and wets her dried lips, “Yes, my lady.”

I smile eagerly, “Bon. Now if you will go downstairs and try to make something that is a little edible, we have been travelling all day and an empty stomach always makes me irritable.”

She gives another curtsey and Clotaire guides her from the room, a little more roughly than his usual gentle nature. I sigh and continue to clean the room, before going to Marian’s old one and cleaning it for my son. A hair set still remains on the table by her mirror and there are some dresses and undergarments in her chest and wardrobe, but I have no desire to keep them. I make a note on the list on the things to sell. My cousin was taller and slimmer around the hips anyway, her clothes would not fit me and mine are better. But perhaps Celine can have a few of the simpler gowns and perhaps some can be salvaged for me to wear.

“Celine.” I call and she hurries in.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Hold this up to yourself, see if it fits.”

“Yes, Lady Anne. But I thought we were meant to be ridding the house of the old fabric and bed clothes.”

“Mmm, we are. I’ll sell most of these dresses, but some of these can go to better use. Yes, that looks as if it’ll fit you,” I hand her a simple gown of brown with a design of pale brown flowers and another one of dark blue. “The rest I will have a look through, though I hate English fashions.”

I dislike my cousin’s keenness on corsets, either made of leather or fabric. Celine gives a small laugh and I smile back at her, were our positions reversed I would not forget what had happened to me so readily, but she has forgotten and shakes her head at ‘English fashions’. Not that the English really have any fashion at all, they just copy everyone else, to the best of their abilities. Clearly smooth lines and flowing fabric was lost to my cousin, but then she always felt self-conscious about her breasts, they were just a little smaller than average. I always had bigger breasts, but it means I cannot wear anything that rises to my neck, otherwise I look lumpy. I ensure all my necklines, whether scooped round or square, dip low, so the curves of my breasts can be seen and the pale softness of my skin. My lip curls once more on seeing all my cousin’s dresses of red and brown, I had never suited such colours; I always wore green, grey, blue or silver. It was partly the reason why I became known in my region as ‘l'épouse de l'eau’. Even my cousin’s green dresses were dull of colour; I shook my head and tutted.

“My lady?” Celine said, I smiled and turned to her, holding the offending item.

“Well it wasn’t as though my cousin was a peasant.” I muttered and flung it to the floor, where it joined several other dresses. Orange, black, red all thrown on the floor. I examined a white one made with a rumpled fabric and embellished neckline. It was relatively nice, but the neckline would have to be cut lower and the skirt raised. I threw it on the bed.

“To keep.” I explained to Celine, who nodded and then folded it neatly, before continuing cleaning out the chest. I did not want any of my cousin’s undergarments. They were too long and unflattering in any case, were I to show them to any man…not that such an event was likely. I studied a stripe green and brown overdress, before throwing it on the floor. Mustard yellow, definitely went onto the floor. A light blue dress caught my attention for a little while, but I decided it would not suit my skin colour. It was too insipid.

* * *

mon agneau - my lamb

l'épouse de l'eau - the water wife


	3. English Manners

I had finally reached the end of the wardrobe, I had tried on Marian’s shoes and boots, but her feet were smaller than mine. One pair of boots I gave to Celine, the rest were to be sold. But as I turned to close the wardrobe door, I spotted a piece of flimsy material stuck in a corner; I drew it out and examined it. Silk and decorated with small flowers and leaves around the edge, my cousin’s wedding veil. I frowned, but she was not married to Robin, why would she have such a trifle?

“Mama! Mama! Mama!” I had no time to dwell upon it, I ran out of the bedroom, followed by Celine and we flew down the stairs. Grégoire was sitting on the bottom step clearly terrified, with Clotaire, Edgard and Gaurin facing the doorway to the stable yard, swords drawn. I pulled Grégoire into my arms.

“You wait in the kitchen with Celine, if you hear anything you run and hide, then find someone and tell them your mother is the Lady of Knighton, her uncle was Sir Edward.”

Grégoire nodded miserably, as a hammering was heard on the door and a loud voice called, “Open this door at once, this is no place for squatters.” I pushed Celine and Grégoire into the kitchen.

“Lower your swords,” I whispered to Edgard and Gaurin. They do so and Gaurin lays his hand on the bolt across the door, I nod to Clotaire who lowers his a little and then to Gaurin who pulls the bolt back. Someone outside clearly hears it and pushes the door forward, several guardsmen and what appears to be their Captain enters the room. His hair is dark, loosely kept at his neck, with a fierce glowering expression betwixt his eyes and a prominent nose. Despite the flare of anger that swells inside me and the fear for my son, , I cannot help my eyes being drawn to his body as he boldly strides across my dining hall towards me. His legs are encased tightly in his breeches and his chest is broad, I lick my lips on seeing his gloved hands and wonder what it would be like to be touched by him. The flicker of desire does not last long though, as he turns his angry gaze on me and the protection of my new home overrides all other emotion I have. If I can defend a castle against an army, then I can defend a manor house against this man and his soldiers.

“And who are you? To barge your way into my home and unnerve my servants?” I spit, before he has any time to speak.

“I am Sir Guy of Locksley–”

“Ah so you are the one who dismissed all of my servants and the reason why this house was filthy on my arrival, my guards have been reduced to doing maid’s work because of you.” I thought I recognised him, but I cannot remember where, perhaps part of my childhood. A boy who lived and played in the village along with my cousin and Robin.

“Your servants, madam?”

“As is decreed by the will and testament of Sir Edward, and I am a lady, sir. I suggest you address me with the appropriate term; I am not the keeper of a tavern. I am the Lady Anne.” I snap. He seems slightly surprised by my forwardness and defensive nature, but he hides it well.

“Your servants, Lady Anne?” he sneers.

“Yes, my servants, for they were part of this house, property and land, and I do not recall telling you to dismiss them for me.”

“This land belongs to–”

“This land belongs to me, as heir to Knighton Hall in wake of my deceased uncle, Sir Edward, and cousin, Lady Marian.” His eyes grow a little wider and his mouth drops open slightly, before Sir Guy frowns and studies my face intently.

“I do not take after my cousin much, she took after her mother and I took after my Grandmother on my father’s side. My father was married to the sister of Sir Edward. But my cousin and I had similar eye colour, only her’s were bluer, mine are grey.” I untie the purse at my belt and pull out the letter from my uncle and his ring with the family’s crest. “However, this ought to be better evidence.” I hand it to Sir Guy who seizes it quickly and reads it apace, before reading the letter behind it; the letter from Prince John.

“Sir Edward and the Lady Marian made no mention of having further family.” he says eventually, still frowning. I arch my eyebrows, how much more evidence does this man wish to have?

“A difference of politics and beliefs divided my father and uncle, I only came here as a child and when I was old enough to join the court no more after that. It ill serves me, many things have changed here.” I say.

“You have a letter of recommendation from Prince John with an ordering that you may claim this property?” Sir Guy asks.

“Yes, I served his wife, the Countess Isabel and was one of her favourite ladies. She put forward my case.”

“Prince John is no longer married to Countess Isabel.” Sir Guy smirked as though he had caught me out. I gave a simpering smile back as though he were the fool.

“Oh I am quite aware of that, in fact I probably heard it before this little town did, after all I did just say I served in the court and was mindful of court gossip.”

“So why does he still support you?”

“I am a loyal subject with a lawful claim.”

“The letter says you may claim it for your son.”

“Which is what I’m doing.”

“Where is your son?”

“Why does the whereabouts of my son concern you?”

“You could be a gang of outlaws attempting to claim this property and land, having robbed and killed the said lady and come up with a multitude of excuses to explain away your dissimilarities between you and your kin and your lack of a son.”

I scowled and rolled my eyes, this suspicion was nonsense, “To begin with, most outlaws are peasants, and even if I was some lady who was an outlaw, my skin would not have remained this fair or soft,” I stretched out my hand, the nails neatly clipped and skin pale and clean. He flinched slightly as though he would be burnt if I touched him. “I also speak French and Latin, which no peasant could do–”

“Prove it.” he hissed.

“C'est ma maison, ma terre et mon fils est dans la cuisine. Deus exaudi nos ab hac stultitia **.** ” Sir Guy studied me intently for some time, before putting away his sword and to my amazement walked towards the kitchen. I make my way towards him and fling my arm across the door.

“It was not wise to so proudly tell me where you son was. Despite French falling out of favour in England, my mother was French.” he says. Curse your mother, I think and he roughly pushes me aside and opens the door, but before either of us can do anything, Grégoire marches out and he practically squares up to the man. Celine follows close behind and tries to grab him, but he moves from her grasp and one of Sir Guy’s soldiers’ grabs her.

“Grégoire.” I squeak and his fierce gaze flicks to me, then back to Sir Guy.

“You know French?” Grégoire asks.

Sir Guy seems bemused, but he manages to answer, “Yes.”

“Then you will know what this means,” Grégoire says, his little high pitched voice not an inspiration for fear by any means, though I am impressed by his courage, “Non, vous ne serez pas mal à ma mère. I watch both Sir Guy and my son staring at one another, Grégoire shows no fear for this tall man clad in black leather and my little boy’s broad leg stance, hands on hips makes me both want to sob out of fear for him and laugh hysterically. Sir Guy leans back slightly, a small smile coming to his lips, he turns to me.

“Come by tomorrow, two of the clock, to Nottingham Castle, you may speak with the Sherriff.”

I frown, “I am now believed?”

Sir Guy shrugs, “Should your testimony prove false or should you not turn up tomorrow we would then know the truth, of whether you do have a lawful claim or whether you are a criminal.”

“I do not wish to take my son on such a journey; he has already travelled far enough over the past few days. Could I rely on your word that you saw him?” Sir Guy says nothing, but gives a short nod. “Good. Now if you excuse me, I have much to see to within this house.” I put my hand over Grégoire’s shoulder and bring him over to the table, sitting him down though he still continues to glare at Sir Guy. Sir Guy gives a short bow and then exits with his men, I order my servants to continue with their errands before making my way to the top floor and watching Sir Guy mount his horse and order his men to leave. As I watch him, he perhaps feels my gaze upon him and glances up to the window. I step back, but not before he catches a glimpse of my gown and frowns, then urges his horse forward.

“My Lady?” Celine is in the doorway. I turn to her and see her flinch, so she has not forgot.

“You tried to grab him, but I know my son is stubborn and he will prove himself a brave man. Just remember last time you did nothing, this time you tried to stop him from getting in harm’s way.” I say and she bows her head and gives a curtsey.

“Thank you, my lady. The cook has prepared us dinner.”

“Well let’s hope English slop is better than English fashions or their manners, though I doubt it.” I smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue, but then I never was keen on writing massive amounts of description. Having lots of fun writing this though, I've never really written an evil character before! Also I appreciate not all women back then were taught French or Latin, but if you're marrying a Frenchman then you probably should and Anne's education is part of the reason behind her cunning.
> 
> Translation:
> 
> C'est ma maison, ma terre et mon fils est dans la cuisine (French) - This is my house, my land and my son is in the kitchen
> 
> Deus exaudi nos ab hac stultitia (Latin) - God spare us from this folly
> 
> Non, vous ne serez pas mal à ma mère. (French) - No, you will not hurt my mother.


	4. Guy's Mind

She claimed she did not look like Marian and in truth there was very little to say she did. Marian's hair was curly and a darker shade, whereas the new Lady of Knighton had lighter hair and it was straight. As Lady Anne said, her eyes were grey, Marian's were blue. It does not help me to think of Marian, but I cannot help it, especially now. I found myself wondering when that boy strode forward, with his dark hair and blue eyes, his almost foolhardy bravery in protecting his mother, whether our son would have been like that. Not that it matters…It's odd, I did not think of Marian stepping in front of the King when he did that, though the resemblances is now striking. I admired his courage though, perhaps he reminded me a little of myself when I was a boy. I just hope his mother keeps him safely beside her, she seemed pretty determined too. His mother did not really need protecting. Two French lions…well, a cub and a lioness. But then such a match is always more deadly.

* * *

 The Sherriff does not seem so interested in the news when I return.

"There is a claimant to Knighton Hall, a Lady and her son."

"Mm-hm." He scribbles his signature on another death warrant and I stare at the man before me, did he not just order me out of the castle with my men to cart away all the furniture and wealth therein and to ensure no one was squatting on the land?

"Sir, there is a claimant to…"

"I heard you Gisborne," he snaps, though I have long given up that name.

"I am quite aware there is a claimant to Knighton Hall. I received the woman's letter weeks ago."

I frown in puzzlement and cock my head, "You received a letter and then told me to go to Knighton and threaten two people with a rightful claim?"

Vaisey looks up and makes a moue with his mouth, "Yes…I suppose I did." He looks back down.

"May I ask, why, sir?" I say through gritted teeth.

"I would have thought that was obvious, Sir Guy." When it is not obvious to me, he sighs dramatically and shakes his head, "Friendly introduction, greeting the neighbours and so on." I nearly shake my head out of sheer confusion.

"You ordered me and my men to…"

"Yes, Gisborne."

"Would it not have been better to tell me the true intention of the visit? Otherwise I would not have frightened a young mother and her son?"

Vaisey shrugs, "I expect it was because you weren't listening. Tut tut, you never listen Sir Guy and look where it gets you." I hold my tongue and stay where I am, the damn folly of this man is grating my nerves.

"Well because I did not know what to do, I summoned her here tomorrow so she may speak with you about her claim."

"Excellent." Vaisey rubs his hands with glee, "We should have cake. Dismissed." I have an intense desire to knock his head several times into the table before him, but I turn on heel and make my way from the room. I nearly bite off my tongue, to stop myself from shouting an oath, but that is something I am well practiced at.

I want to go somewhere else. Not here or Locksley. I suppose where I am wanted, but such a thing happening is unlikely. Some people call me the Devil himself and that's probably what Lady Anne believes judging by her foul look. I will have to make do with another night of drinking heavily and trying at all costs to keep my eyes open, though God knows it damages more than my mind and body. What do I care for that though? A swifter death is more merciful and in many ways I am already dead. She doesn't look like Marian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters going to be posted today, as this one is rather short, but I did want other people's perspectives - including Guy's and Robin's. Thanks to everyone for reading, more coming soon!


	5. A Lady Never Cries

I arrive in Nottingham early the next day, in time for the markets, with Clotaire by my side. It has not changed much from my childhood, of what I can remember. Small thatched houses, low slung beams, the smell of mud, animal droppings. I pick my skirts up over the dirtied pathways; normally these are kept cleaner in France, two things I must tell the Sherriff about, outlaws running wild in his woods and the filth of the streets. We make good our time by trading the sheets, bed clothes and hangings for new ones and selling most of Marian's clothes and shoes. I make a large purchase of food, glad I had the good sense to hire a cart for the day and make it generally known I am looking for new servants, both for my kitchen and hearth and my barracks.

Clotaire departs from me a short while to examine the weapons stall and make several orderings of weapons, armour and healing supplies. I sit in a tavern, order a glass of wine – that tastes like vinegar and grape juice mixed with piss – and some food, which is even worse than the slop, meant to resemble some kind of stew, served up last night. But what I said to one peasant woman hardly matters, how I behave here does. So I thank the landlady and enquire after her husband's health. Thank God for boring court conversations, I am well trained to not really pay attention but to 'yes' and 'oh no' and 'hmm?' in all the right places and she goes away merrily smiling, telling me she will pass on my need to hire servants. I keep a fake smile plastered on my face, before attempting to eat the dried bread and watery soup before me.

I want to go…I would say home, but I no longer have one of those. I want to go back to France though; I want to have my sons by my side and for everything to be well. I want rich, creamy cheese and soft summer fruits; I want my wine served to me in cool, clear glasses, not this pewter mug which leaves a foul, metallic aftertaste. I bite my lip.   
_'A Lady does not cry, a lady never cries. To do so is to only fuel men's ridiculous idea that women are weak, are foolish. Women are the strongest beings in history; year, after year, after year they must suffer men's folly and stupidity without saying a word, without a whimper passing their lips. That is what you must do, Anne. Women are always much braver than men, but if they knew such a thing they would slaughter us all, from sheer vanity and pride.'_

"My lady?" Clotaire stands at my table, looking worriedly at me. I do not know how long I have been gazing through the window, but I jolt out of my seat, nearly upending my wine glass.

"Forgive me, Clotaire, I was miles away."

A little smile quirks the corner of his mouth and he says very softly in French, "Miles away in France?"

I smile at the joke, then grow a little sad, "Perhaps. But we can't go back there anymore and it does me no service to think on it."

Clotaire gives a little bow, "Of course, my lady. It is nearly two of the clock, we are needed up at the castle."

I force down the rest of the wine and get up, "Mustn't leave the Sherriff waiting."

I thank the landlady before I leave and she smiles further. I hide mine as I leave, now, no matter what that old lady last night says, everyone else will refute her. I will be the perfect lady and guardian of Knighton Hall, till my son is old enough to claim it for his own and I will relinquish happily. Perhaps I will join a nunnery; I smirk to myself and quicken my pace up to the Castle. I had never seen the inside before, though Marian and I had occasionally visited the market and waited in the yard for Sir Edward to take us home.

* * *

"Ah Lady Anne, welcome, welcome."

My footfall stops and my mouth drops open slightly, the Sherriff sitting in his chair is a friend of Prince John and one I have met before, at the French court. He was not very high up there, but high enough and has clearly climbed his way up. Why did I not know it was him?

"Yes, I believe we had met." Vaisey smiles, his gold tooth glinting in the light from the windows.

"Vaisey…Sir Vaisey, I did not recognise your name, they pronounce it differently here."

"Course they do, English peasants. It is far more eloquent on the tongue of a beautiful woman who resides in the French court." he grins.

"You know each other?" a cold voice creeps out from the shadows and as I peer into the gloom, Sir Guy steps forward, his eyes are fixed on Vaisey's. I stare at him, but he does not even glance at me.

"Oh yes we go way back, way back. Now I know your palate is for French food, my lady, and as luck would have it we have some cakes and pastries from France. I assume you're tired of English pigswill?"

I hide my giggle, but the warmth bubbles up in my throat and when next I speak I have to control my laughter, "Thank you, my lord."

"And we have some very fine Clairet, which I believed you always liked. We shall keep this informal, a visit between two old friends? Oui?" he smirks and I give a neat curtsey, while he gestures to a chair and bades me sit. I keep my warm smile on my face, but I think Vaisey believes me a womanly fool, tided over by sweetmeats and wine. However much I danced and charmed the men of the court, I always found Vaisey to be a slimy sort, eager to get his hands on whatever he pleased without rank or fortune to his name. But I will flirt with him, sweet talk him into my own power…if that is possible, my husband was always convinced he was a sodomite.

"Yes, Lady Anne and I were present at the French court. Have you met my Lieutenant, Sir Guy of Locksley?" Vaisey says, unfolding a napkin while servants enter with plates of cakes, sweet and a bowl of fruits, a pitcher of wine follows, with three wine glasses.

"Yes, we've met." I said drolly, "He barged into my house last night, terrifying my son and my servants, demanding to see the paperwork of my claim."

Sherriff Vaisey tsked, "My apologies, Lady Anne. I had meant for your greeting to be more civilised, but Sir Guy does not always listen." he turned to Sir Guy, wagging his finger, "No cakes for you. Now sit, Guy. We have matters to discuss."

Sir Guy did so, but kept his head lowered and he did not put any of the sweetmeats or pastries on his plate, he did pour himself a measure of wine. Vaisey put an almond pastry in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed.

"How is your son?"

"Very well, he's a strong and lively boy, though a little tired from our recent travels." I said.

"How is he finding England?" Vaisey grinned.

"He likes it well enough." I said, before Vaisey raised an eyebrow, "He misses France, of course, but he is making the best of it here." I put a slice of cherry cake on my plate and then brought out the documents and letters from my purse.

"Oh really, now Lady Anne? We've only just got chatting."

"I'm afraid so, my lord. The ownership of land is a business and I am a business woman, we will talk after I am ensured the rights to my land and my claimant has been successful."

Vaisey reached over for the letters and began to read them, occasionally 'hmm'-ing and nodding. I pulled over the flagon of wine and poured myself a glass, while Vaisey was reading. I looked up to Sir Guy, his cold eyes glanced at me, before he downed his wine and pulled the flagon back beside him.

"So what was the purpose of barging into my home, Sir Guy?"

"We are waiting for whether the Sherriff agrees it is your home and as I've explained it would have frightened off unlawful claimants." He muttered, pouring himself another glass and raising it to his lips. I seized the glass in his hand and quickly rested my hand on the top. His expression looked as though I may have punched him in the face and his eyes bore into mine.

I smirked. "This is Clairet, Sir. It needs to be savoured, not swallowed." I pulled away my hand and then brought my own glass to my lips, the sweet, delicate liquid reddening my lips, the subtle flavour spilling over my tongue before I swallowed.

Vaisey looked up and sneered at his Lieutenant, "Quite right, Sir Guy."

It was clear that while Sir Guy worked for Vaisey, he detested the man, and while Vaisey had Sir Guy in a position of authority, he did not trust him or see him as anything other than a bumbling idiot. This could play to my advantage, should I lay my cards right, I thought. I had spent too long in court recognising subtle gestures and half hidden expressions to know what everything meant, what a tilt of the head to the left or right meant, whether flattery was real or faked, whether a deal someone made was made with honesty or greed. I'd always had a nose for liars and my husband would often keep me by his side, during meetings, so he could tell who brought an honest report and who had falsified theirs. Everyone assumed my husband had a great network of spies, but he didn't, he had me and occasional emissaries who followed the trails I had found. They never suspected the pretty, little wife sat in the window seat, continuing with her embroidery and that silly woman's need to be close to her husband. Stupid men.

"Well that seems to be all in order." Vaisey said, handing the letter back to me, "I can hardly refuse Prince John's elegant recommendation or otherwise fear losing my head." he grinned.

"That's it?" Sir Guy exclaimed. Ah a weak spot, a desire for my land perhaps? Or a dislike of women inheriting land.

"Yes, all correct and in order. The land, property and wealth are yours. Ensure your tenants pay their taxes, obey the law, blah blah blah. But you know all that."

"Indeed, my lord." I smiled and raised my glass to him.

"While we're here, why don't you tell us of that peasant uprising against your old home in France?" I nearly choke on my wine, Sir Guy glances up at me.

"My lord…I don't think that's really appropriate." I say to Vaisey.

"Oh go on, go on." he wheedles and I am horribly reminded of my boys' begging for bedtime stories. "Guy could learn something about dealings like that."

I shake my head, "No, my lord, I will not tell a tale like that for your delight, when it saddens me that it had to happen."

"You still did it, you still showed those little fools what happened if they tried you." His tooth shines even brighter in the candle light and right now I know this man is a danger to me, he is not even just power-hungry or greedy or firm with his punishments. He is mad.

"Now there is a matter I would speak further to you about." I say, nervous of breaching a topic with him that may not go down well.

"Speak on, chère dame."

I clear my throat and take another sip of wine, "While travelling here we were interrupted on our journey by outlaws who demanded payment."

"Oh my dear lady, I hope you weren't too afraid…" Vaisey says, placing his hand on mine, I hide my shiver of distaste.

"No." I lie, "But I did wonder what sort of place this is that allows outlaws free use of the road in terrifying travellers."

"Well you are quite blunt with your opinions." The Sherriff sits back in his seat, smiling smugly at me, biting into another cake.

"As always." I take another sip of wine and continue to look at the Sherriff. "You have guards, weaponry, dogs. What makes it so difficult for you to capture them?"

"They use the forest to their advantage; some of them are trained fighters." Sir Guy growls through his teeth.

"And what, you do not train your fighters or use people who know the forest? Woodsmen or old poachers."

"Poachers are not tolerated on this land." Vaisey declares proudly.

I smirk at his foolishness, "Use people against their own, the outlaws are clearly allowed because the poorer folk are united against us. When poachers were brought forth to me, I offered them two choices, either they could be hunted down by my dogs in a deer skin or they could join my guardsmen. Thus I did not just have inept soldiers, stumbling around a forest they did not really know; I had people who could track large animals, knew the sights and sounds of men who had disturbed the area and could set hidden traps. To all intents and purposes you also have the appearance of mercy, because you have allowed that person to live..."

Vaisey snapped his fingers and turned to Sir Guy, "I like this woman." he turned his gaze to me, a large grin spread on his face, "A lady after my own heart."

I laughed easily, "Alas, Sir Vaisey, my year is not yet up."

"But perhaps when we next find a poacher, I can send him your way."

"Yes." I smile. "My barracks are quite empty it seems. I have need of men."

"And then, though it is unconventional, a position on the council. If your results are successful." Vaisey suggests and I see Sir Guy jolt in surprise, I expect he had to work a good deal harder than I to gain a potential position on the council.

"Well I may have not much time on my hands; the house needs a lot of work, thanks to someone dismissing my servants. But if you would listen to my advice, I would be more than happy to assist you." Sir Guy is looking at me intently, but I finish my glass of wine and stand up. "I thank you for your time and consideration; please know you are welcome to Knighton Hall at any time."

Vaisey gets up and walks towards me, before performing a ridiculous bow. He raises my hands to his lips and kisses it, "Until we meet again, Lady Anne. Adieu, belle dame."   
  
"Good day, my lord." I turn to Sir Guy, "And good day to you sir, I would say you were welcome, but only if you knock on my door first."

Vaisey laughs as though it is the funniest joke he ever heard, "Well, Sir Guy why don't you show Lady Anne out and I will send on some of these cakes to your household, Lady Anne. I'm sure your son will appreciate them."

"Not too many though, I don't want him getting a sick stomach."

* * *

Sir Guy makes no effort to talk with me or to slow his long stride so I may keep up. We pass doors, stairways leading up and down, gateways; servants and soldiers hurrying to their tasks, each with a respectful bow or curtsey to Sir Guy. During our frantic walk I manage to examine the man walking next to me; despite the punishing pace it is better now I am not clouded by anger. Indeed, I let it well known in my step and the toss of my head I have everything to play for. He has nice thighs, good strong legs; if he were a horse I would examine his teeth and consider purchasing him. An impressive black stallion for my stables, I smirk. But there must surely be a lot of potential buyers or else he already has an owner.

"So you live at Locksley, Sir Guy?"

"Yes." he growls.

"My cousin Marian was to be married to the previous Lord of Locksley."

"I was aware of that." he snaps. It is obvious he doesn't wish to talk.

"Well forgive me for desiring to keep up to date, everyone seems to make the assumption I already know what is going on or what has occurred in the past. But no matter, a change in the subject…Do you have a wife living with you at Locksley?"

"No."

"Oh…very well. Have you lived long in–?" He turns furiously towards me and I nearly overstep him.

"Lady Anne, may I speak boldly?"

"As boldly as the Church allows for a man to speak to a Lady." I reply coolly.

"I have no desire for you or anyone else to pry into my own business–"

"Sir Guy I was only making conversation and as you are clearly in your thirties, it is generally assumed that a man like yourself, with land and wealth, would by now be married to ensure your title is passed on…"

"And you'd think to make me an offer?" he hissed, stepping closer to me. I found myself wondering when I had pressed my back against the wall, but was too distracted by the glare in his eyes and my eyes wandering down his slim, muscled form. I scowled at him, placing my hand on his chest and pushing him away from me.

"No, actually. And even if I wanted to, which I don't, I cannot make you an offer as my year of mourning is not yet up. So don't flatter yourself. I merely asked whether you had a wife, to see if you had children, who could be the same age as my son and so they could have a playmate. But clearly as you think my only worth is in snagging a husband, I can find my own way out."

I flew away from him and marched down the corridor, the entrance to the Castle only a little way off and the still form of Clotaire easily visible among the bustling crowds. He spotted me as I approached and took in my cross appearance.

"All well, my lady?"

"Yes, everything has been settled, it is now my property to be handed to my son when he is grown."

Clotaire smiles and gives a short bow, "I am glad to hear that, my lady. And you have an admirer?"

"What? No, I…" I turn to see Sir Guy watching our exchange from the steps leading to the entrance to the Castle. I glare at him and he smirks, before turning on heel and leaving. "No. Far from it."

"An enemy?" Clotaire's hand drifts towards his sword.

I smile and turn back towards him, "No, far worse than that. An unknown."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As promised, another chapter. This took some research, the punishment for poaching (tied up in a deer's skin and chased by dogs) is genuine. As shocking as it may seem, Vaisey is actually surprisingly lenient for a medieval-age guy according to some of the punishments! In comparison to what you could've got he's not such a bad sherriff after all! Lol!
> 
> In terms of the cleanliness of French medieval streets, the towns were roughly the same level of cleanliness (i.e. None), the courts and dwelling places of the wealthy were cleaner, but there's no way a wealthy Lord and Lady would let piles of shit build up in the surrounding streets in the town/village they occupied. So that's my basic reasoning, not to say European medieval folk had the best hygiene practices in the world, but poo is messy, smelly and gets clogged in the wheels of carts.
> 
> Translate:  
> chère dame (French) - dear lady  
> Adieu, belle dame (French) - Farewell, beautiful lady  
> I'm guessing you guys don't need me to translate the 'oui'!


	6. Guy's Mind II

By God, she is evil. I can make no claim to goodness, but her mind is so cunning and deceptive. Turning the people within her old town against one another, families living in cold contempt, disloyalties within their closest ties; Marian would despair…is that why she never made mention of her cousin or other family? It is more likely because the subject was never raised, what did I care if she had other family? And now we meet this woman, this cold angel of death, blackmailing her peasants, plotting each move, flirting unashamedly with Vaisey; the perfect courtier's wife, understanding his own mind and desire for power and using the skills she has to further his cause. I watch her and her guard leaving the courtyard; the man rarely ever left her side and the tight hold on his sword suggested unwavering loyalty.

"She could arouse me by telling me how many men she had killed." Vaisey's comment made me want to plaster the stone wall with either my vomit or his head, but I said nothing to him and did not turn to look at him. "That's the sort of woman you need to marry, not Ma–"

I grabbed the foul man by his throat, "Don't you dare tell me who I should marry or bring her name into this. I am surprised any man would want to marry a woman like that."

Vaisey's mouth turned into a smile and he began to chokingly laugh, "You're a fool then, in that case, Gisborne." He grasps my hand and shoves it away. "She held a high position in the French court, was favoured by the French King and Prince John, has land and property in France and England, and when she remarries her new husband will claim it, he will have guardianship over her sons. Land, wealth, power, status, wit and beauty, she is every man's dream. I assure you, next time we have a party here, she'll be snapped up. Men will be fighting around her door to woo her."

He chuckled and continued his way down the corridor, finally skipping around the corner. He seemed in surprisingly high spirited moods, but considering he had just offered a woman a place on the Privy Council anything was possible. I looked out over Nottingham, the sky palest blue, the air clearer up here away from the dirt of the street. Shouting and the noise of a struggle caught my attention as a man in dirty brown clothes and with his hands tied behind him with rope was brought in by the guards. A woman wailing and screaming was stopped by the guards at the gate from following him, as he was forcefully dragged across the ground. I sighed and made my way to the dungeons.

* * *

"His crime?" I ask the scribe.

"Stealing."

"Stealing what?"

"A poultice from the Healer, for his daughter, he claims he cannot afford it and offered a trade instead; which the Healer did not accept."

I nodded, then found myself asking the question I thought would never pass my lips, "What was his profession first of all?"

"A woodsman, but he no longer has work due to the restrictions on the forest."

"Hence the stealing." I said.

"Yes, my lord."

My luck, I smirked, well Lady Anne let's see what you've got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a coincident! Hey, stories are full of them, if you've seen Les Mis you'll get what I mean! Anyway, I do not have the patience to have Anne sitting on her arse for months on end and nothing happening, I like making stories exciting. Another chapter will be arriving in the morning, thank you for reading.


	7. Holy Spirit, Holy Fools

"And then what did King Arthur say?"

"I am the King…of…King of England…and I will rule over…I will rule over you, fairly and with the power of…God." Grégoire frowns with particular concentration at the English words in his book; I soothingly rub his forehead and give him a kiss on his cheek. "Mama, why do we have to read English books?"

"Because we're English now."

"When did we stop being French?"

I smile, "We haven't stopped, we've just…taken a break from it. Anyway, you and your brother need to learn English. Some day you could be an ambassador and you will need as many languages as possible so you can understand everyone."

Grégoire hmphs and slides down into the bed, "I don't want to be an ambassador, mama."

I laugh and stroke his forehead, "You don't have to be one, I was just using it as an example. But you might also marry a foreign born woman someday and it will be much better if you can understand her language too. What do you want to be when you're grown?"

Grégoire sits up excitedly and practically bounces on the bed, "A Knight, like father, going to the Holy Land and fighting against the moors."

The terror that seizes my throat means I don't even correct him when he says he will fight moors, panic constricts my lungs and I desperately want to grab my son and bring him to my side. Never let him go. I can hear his scared little voice speaking from a thousand miles away.

"Mama? Mama? Mama…" he shakes me, but I can't move, all I can see is blood at the end of the bed, the foul smell, the taste of it in my mouth. I gag and hear Grégoire run outside the bedroom, calling for Clotaire. Blood rushing in my ears, my heart pounding and his father's body lying across the bed, his back peppered with arrows. The blood seeping out and staining the bed sheets. I think him dead, but he turns his face towards me, a look of complete agony on it and a terrible groan pulled from his throat.

"My lady? My lady?" rough hands shake me, a sharp slap across my face and I look up into the face of Clotaire, my boy standing frightened beside him.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, tears threatening to spill.

"You must be brave for him. You must. Otherwise there is nothing." Clotaire grimly tells me, I nod and wipe away my tears. I open my arms to my boy and he climbs back into the bed, cuddling close to me, I kiss him again and again.

"I am sorry, my boy. I am sorry."

"Please don't do that again." he whispers.

"I won't. I promise, I won't." I held him and soothed him till his breathing deepened and his eyes could no longer remain open. I lay him gently down in the bed and stood up, pulling the blankets to his chin and wrapping him up.

"Send for Celine to sleep beside him." I said to Clotaire.

"Yes, my lady." I stagger away from the bed and once we are outside, Clotaire continues speaking, "I also received a letter from a messenger, he instructed me to tell you it was important. It is from the Sherriff of Nottingham." I gasped in surprise and looked at Clotaire, my hand outstretched.

"Where is it?"

"I left it in your bedroom."

"Thank you Clotaire, no one else has opened it?"

"No, my lady. I delivered it to your room; I would not trust a servant."

I smiled, there was something of a rivalry between my old French servants and new English ones, but I gave the English ones enough hope. Despite the old woman begging me, I did not wish to keep her as a cook and so searched for a new one and as soon as I had found one that suited my palate and that of English Lords and Ladies, I employed her. Still I would bemuse her by buying in French foods. The new maids had at first tested my patience, they could be stupid girls, but when I had slapped them both and warned them if they dared tell anyone I would do worse, cleaning took a turn for the better. I had yet to find a Steward, but then I trusted few to see to my estate and manage my profits and I could do well enough myself.

I made my way to my room, finding the letter on my desk, unopened. I sat down in my chair and cracked the hardened wax on the letter, pulling open the parchment. I poured myself some ale and took a sip while I read the first page.

_'To the Lady Anna-Marie de Sauveterre,_  
 _Dear Lady Anne, I hope you are well and the English food is becoming more appetising to you. The weather is as miserable as ever, but then this is England and not the beautiful Bordeaux region of which you know so well and are fond of. The first part of this letter concerns my desire to welcome both you and your son to Nottingham; I intend to hold a feast in Nottingham Castle with several other important and influential guests. I hope I am assured of your attendance. If so the feast will take place on the 23rd day of this month._  
  
Secondly, the gaol of Nottingham recently gained a new resident. A thief, name Mark Devyn; before his crime he was a woodsman with good knowledge of our interests. I await for your advice in how to go about this new scheme, but it would be a pity not to torture him. I feel certain you would wish me to deprive him of certain luxuries, so I have weakened his resolve, but have yet to do anything…physical. I am yours to command, my dear Lady.

_With all respect and admiration,_  
 _Sir Vaisey,  
Sherriff of Nottingham.'_   
  
It was signed and sealed with his official badge and I quickly drew a piece of paper before writing.   
  
_'To the Sherriff of Nottingham,_  
  
 _I will attend your feasts with all joy. I will make my way into Nottingham tomorrow and we can discuss matters there. I dislike putting anything to paper. I, will therefore, burn your letter._

_With all deference and respect,  
Lady Anne of Knighton (That is the only title I can lay claim to now, until I am remarried).' _

I gently poured wax onto the folded letter, then pressed my uncle's signet ring into the melted puddle, till it formed the Knighton badge. I handed it to Clotaire and instructed him to give it to the messenger, who was still waiting downstairs. Once he had left, I flopped onto my bed, I decided to go to church tomorrow, I would attend Mass. I fell asleep shortly afterwards, knowing I would be disturbed by my dreams.

* * *

The Priest smiles solemnly at the end of the prayer and forms the sign of the cross, "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."

I cross myself and then get up from the pew, Grégoire's hand in mine. As we walk down the aisle, I smile at some of the peasants gathered at the back who greet me. Holy fools, I think, stopping myself from laughing. In pretence of goodness I hand out a few coins, then step out of the church into bright sunlight. I blink a few times then smile when I recognise a scowling man in black leather, standing by a market stall and examining the wares.

"Clotaire, take Grégoire home, I have some unfinished business to attend to."

"But mama, you said we would play." Grégoire tightens his grip on my hand and I kneel by him to kiss his brow.

"And we will, mon angus dei. I promise, as soon as I get back we will play. This won't take long."

"Do as your mother says and I may let you ride on my horse for a while." Clotaire says, Grégoire gasps with delight and then scrambles into the litter, Clotaire mounts his own horse in front and I wave them both off, before turning to Sir Guy.

"Sir Guy, fancy meeting you here." He makes no reply, but drops the jewellery he was looking at and begins the walk up to the castle. I do not know whether to take it as an invitation or a dismissal, either way I walk beside him.

"That necklace is a little gaudy for you?" I smile teasingly.

"It was not for me." he growled.

"Oh-ho, a lady friend?"

"No. I believed it to be a fake, the beads made of glass not jewels."

"Ah I see." We resumed silence and continued walking.

"You missed Mass." I say.

"I do not attend Mass."

"Oh?" Sir Guy fixes me with a steely glare, "Understood. Don't bother with your personal business. But I must ask, you aren't concerned for your soul's safety?"

"I doubt there will be a place for me in Heaven." he mutters, his eyes remaining fixed on the pathway.

"Hmm, well I'm sure if I speak to the right people at the right time I can get you a place." I jest, there is a small quirk of Sir Guy's lips, so the man does have a sense of humour, just not a very safe one concerning the Inquisition.

"Is that not blasphemy?" Sir Guy asks.

"Yes…I suppose it is, shall I go back and pray?" I smirk and Sir Guy rolls his eyes.

"The Sherriff is not a man of God." he says.

"I doubt anyone truly is a man of God and those that claim they are, are the least likely ones."

"An interesting proposition and one that would see you killed by the Church."

"Well it's lucky I poured some of my wealth into the rebuilding of a Church then. Clergymen are just the same as any other men, they can be tricked, by wealth or power or lust."   
  
Sir Guy arches his eyebrow, "Lust?"

"Funny that should peak your interest." I taunt.

His scowl returns, "The clergymen take a vow of chastity."

"That's why they're so desperate to get their hands on a young, innocent, pretty woman who pretends she doesn't know anything, but, is in truth, a complete whore."

Sir Guy grabs my arm tightly and draws me aside, "I suggest you do not make such foul claims about the Church they would not serve you well."

"Firstly, you're not a man of God. If anyone looks at my attendance at church and the money I have put into the one in France, then in comparison to you I look a lot more holy. Secondly, if you're surprised by my honesty and frankness, may I advise you to get used to it? I am a French noble woman, my husband kept two mistresses and a dozen whores."   
  
"Then I suggest you behave like a lady and–"

"Pretend it never happens, some day if I have a daughter I will have to advise her with the same thing. I will have to tell her that no matter who she marries and how much they profess to love her, they will have whores and she will have to turn a blind eye to it all." I whisper.

"And if she should meet a man who loves her?"

I sigh, "None of my children will ever marry for love. Nor will I, to be this high up in the world means marriages can never be based on love. It would be foolish of me to seek love when it is not returned." Sir Guy's face looks a little surprise by my sentiment, but his grip had loosened on my arm, so I pulled away and continued up the path towards Nottingham Castle, he caught up with me a short while later.

"So who is this man the Sherriff found?" I ask.

"A woodsman, he cannot afford to make a living anymore, the wood is banned to most that do not seek trouble and it is easy for woodsmen to become spies for the outlaws."

I tsked, "You've let them have their way too much."

Guy arched an eyebrow, "You would not say that had you been here a year ago."

"If it's come to this, then you have not controlled them properly in the first place." I said, "But enough of that, I must look reluctant to go with you and we cannot argue about this matter. It draws too much attention."

* * *

"Ah Lady Anne, very good of you to come, very good." Vaisey was already pouring three glasses of wine before I sat down at the table, he passed the first to me and did not bother passing the other to Sir Guy. Sir Guy moodily grabbed his from across the table and sat down opposite me.

"Not at all, Sherriff. I am glad you were able to accept my visit on such short notice, but time is of the essence and forgive me the shortness of my letter."

Sir Vaisey nodded eagerly, "Of course. Of course. I understand your wish to keep things secret."

"Now then in your letter you spoke of a woodsman, this is excellent news, he will be perfect. As for torture the best kind is the torture of the mind."

Vaisey looked confused, "How do you go about doing that?"

"Torture him, but do not ruin his feet or physically damage him, he will serve no purpose otherwise. Then once he has felt your wroth, tell him his wife and child will get the same, tell him they will be mutilated."

Sir Guy swallowed, "Lady Anne that is vile."

I sighed and rolled my eyes, "I didn't say actually do that, but put the fear of God into the man. Frighten him out of his wits. Leave him in darkness, leave him in solitary confinement, beat him. Then when he is on his knees and crying like a baby bring him into the Hall, ask him to explain himself. He has been found guilty?" I asked for reassurance.

"Yes." Vaisey's eyes were gleaming and he rubbed his hands together, the rings on his fingers chinking in the silence.

"Tell him of his punishment, tell him he will be either killed or have his hand chopped off."

"And then?" Vaisey's chest was heaving, his lips quivering.

'Well husband,' I think to myself, 'He's no sodomite. He's worse than that; he enjoys hearing tales of torture and death. Enjoys robbing the light from people's eyes.' I shivered. "Then I step forward."

Sir Guy frowned, "You step forward. Then what?"

I smiled, "I beg for his life, I go on about how he has no fortune, cannot support his family and if I take him on as a guard, instilling rules and justice in his life, he can be released and come into my servitude. You will pretend to disagree with me, scream and shout, consider it and then agree, say you've had an epiphany or something; 'God spoke to you in a dream'. You then offer the peasant his choice. He will pick the latter, rather than death…"

"So the people will favour you, instead of us?" Sir Guy questioned.

"You have chosen that image; the people will believe I am their saviour. I may even gain the trust of the outlaws, in which case…they belong to you."

"Perfect." whispered the Sherriff and raised his glass to me, smiling greedily and then winking at Sir Guy, who flinched, but for all my court practice I could not work out what such a gesture meant. "And you will come to the feast?" Vaisey asked.

"Yes, when will you bring the man before you?"

"Hmm, I normally past judgement quickly, so in three days' time, after his torture."

"I need an excuse to be here."

"Easy, your cousin had a room in the castle; you can be going through her possessions."

"Perfect." I murmured, raising my own glass to the Sherriff.

Sir Guy cleared his throat nervously and the Sherriff rolled his eyes, "Sir Guy gave a few things to your cousin, which he would probably like to sell back. You do not mind if he is with you?"

"No, not at all. You can show me around the castle as well." I said. I saw Vaisey hiding his laughter and a muscle twitch in Guy's forehead. I had a good feeling he didn't like me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots and lots and lots of dialogue. Also, did I say I would post another chapter in the morning? I meant three days later at 1 in the morning! :) But it's a very long one and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Translate (this one is pretty easy if you know a bit of Latin, or watch the Tudors!):  
> 'In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen' - In the name of the father, and of the son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
> 
> Later Anne refers to her son as her 'lamb of God' (in Latin), similar to her expression of calling him her lamb in French.


	8. God is Merciful

“You got rid of her clothes?” Sir Guy asks, when I first pull open the wardrobe.

“Yes. They would not fit me and I would find it strange wearing a dead woman’s clothes, I have no qualms with selling them or if I do like them changing them so they fit me.” I pick out a silvery blue dress with red-gold embroidery, “Hmm, I do actually like this one. Except the tassles, why would anyone wear tassles here?” I snigger and flick the gold tassles with one finger. Sir Guy does not respond, he is looking through a jewellery box.

“I can trust you not to steal the most valuable jewels in there.” I say, folding the dress and placing it on a chair.

“Why would I steal a woman’s jewels?”

“Please, it’s not as if the gender of the person matters, they’re still jewels, they’re still worth something.” I go back to the wardrobe and examine a cream coloured cape with a bejewelled broach, which I decide I do quite like, that goes on the ‘keep’ pile along with the dress. A dull grey dress goes to the floor. Sir Guy frowns at it.

“What?” I ask.

“It seems disrespectful.”

I arch my eyebrows and laugh, “You threw all my servants out, threatened my household and did not believe my claim even when I produced a letter from the Regent. I don’t think you have any right to lecture me about respect.” There aren’t so many dresses here, just a few more corsets, shirt sleeves, dark capes and shoes that go to the floor. I finally pull out a golden coloured dress decorated with white flowers and an elaborate belt at the front. “This is quite nice.” I muse, I’m unsure about the colour, but the cut’s quite nice.

“You can’t keep that.” Sir Guy says. I turn to face him, surprise he has spoken.

“Why not? It’s not really my colour, granted, but I could fashion a new material to go with the bodice or a new bodice to go with the skirt.” He marches swiftly across the room, then grabs hold of my wrist, while I still hold the dress.

“You. Can’t. Keep. It.” he growls.

“Take your hands off me.” I glare at him and see his stupid little sneer, I try to wrench away my hand, but his grip is unyielding. Why does he care what happens to a dress? I fling it to the ground as though it disgusts me and he loosens his hold. I pick up the dresses on the floor and dump them on the bed, folding the bedclothes around them.

“I can see why you’re unmarried.” I mutter. There is a sudden roar and Sir Guy grabs my shoulders, pulling me round to face him and pinning me against the wall. His eyes blaze with anger and hatred.

“Don’t concern yourself with my life.” With each word he slams me against the wall.

“I’m not, I couldn’t give a damn what happens to you.” He looks as if he will strike me or even pull me across the bed, yank up my skirts and take me without mercy. I cannot help a little fear creep up into my chest.

“Sir Guy…My Lady…” a nervous little voice at the doorway says and Sir Guy turns his head to look at the intruder. It is a servant boy, quaking in his boots, his eyes wide with fear. Sir Guy releases me and then marches over to the boy. My heart is still hammering in my chest and all at once I see Sir Guy bearing down on my own child, my own son.

“Please…don’t hurt him.” I cry, Sir Guy looks surprised as does the boy. “What news do you have?” I ask him.

“My Lord Vaisey has ordered the Council, it is Mark Devyn’s trial and he wants all the Lords to attend him.” The boy mumbles quickly and dives out of the room, before Sir Guy can say another word. This is our signal, our cue. I make my way past Sir Guy.

“Lady Anne, I did not mean…”

I silence him with my glare, “I care not what you meant, Sir Guy. I have told you, I care nothing for your life, as you so clearly care not for my own.”

* * *

“The sentence passed will mean you could lose your life, there are several means of doing so. I could have you hanged or have your hand cut off.”

“No, my lord…please…no.” The peasant whimpers while the rest of the Court room looks on, I keep the pitying look on my face.

“I could even make you drink enough of that potion, of which you stole, to kill you.” The Sherriff’s eyes gleam.

“Please, my lord. My daughter is very sick, she will die if she does not…”

“Spare me your woes; I have heard them many times before. With your theft your family suffers already, your daughter is weakening, your wife’s money cannot support them, the Healer you stole from cannot pay his taxes. You will be made an example of.”

“God have mercy on me. God have mercy on me.”

“Guards, I’ve had enough of this drivel. Hold him fast.” The Sherriff clears his throat and then takes another sip of Clairet wine before speaking, “Mark Devyn you are tried before this court and found guilty. You will be taken hence and hanged for your crime.”

“No…no…no…”

“Don’t fear, Master Devyn, we will ensure your death is lingering and painful. Your wife will enjoy watching.”

The man staggers in the guard’s arms, “Please, my Lord…”

“Take him away.” The Sherriff waves his hand and I get to my feet. I see several of the men frowning and the Sherriff gestures again for the guards to stay. “Lady Anne?” Vaisey says coldly.

“My Lord, I beg of you to reconsider.” I step down from the raised dais and face Vaisey, his face gives away none of our intent. Devyn looks so relieved I fear he may piss himself. “This crime would be considered quite minor in my old household, what he did was only to help his wife and child.”

Vaisey snorts with contempt, “He does more damage than you think.”

“Could not the Healer be reimbursed, perhaps give them twice the cost for the poultice.”

“My Lady you are most kind, but I cannot afford it. There is no work for me.” Devyn mumbles and Vaisey grins.

“Then perhaps Master Devyn can work in service to the Healer until the debt is repaid or can find new work with me, I have need for guards and due to his old work he would be strong enough to wield a sword. He would soon learn the meaning of order and duty, were he in my household.” The hope on Devyn’s face would make me laugh, had I not a role to play in this scheme. Vaisey scowls at me and Devyn, then slowly rubs his face with his palm.

“Take the prisoner back to his cell and keep him there. I have need to speak with Lady Anne. Sir Guy, guard the door.” Vaisey orders quickly and makes his way into the private room beyond this one, with a whirl of his cape. I curtsey before he leaves and follow after him, already muttering and whispers flying about the Hall. I give a quick hidden smile to Sir Guy, then enter the room and close the door, while he stands guard in front of it. I turn to Vaisey.

“Now it is your turn. Shout at me as much as you dare.”

He grins, “With pleasure, my lady.” And soon Vaisey is storming about the room, screaming and shouting about hanging the man, my weak, female nature and the foolishness of taking on that man as a guard, while I bite my tongue to keep myself from laughing, pour a glass of wine and make simpering replies of mercy, forgiveness and bringing order into the man’s life. I soon raise my hand to get Vaisey to quieten down and he brings his voice down a little, then his arguments. We continue the discussion, though it is all an act.

* * *

I follow Sir Guy down into the dank dungeons, bringing out my handkerchief to cover my nose and mouth. Several prisons continue their wailing and moaning as we descend the stairs and walk past them, now and then Sir Guy slams his fist on the bars, quietening them. We reach Devyn’s cell and he eagerly looks up.

“Release him.” Sir Guy mutters, as though this brings a foul taste to his mouth. The guards open the door and unshackle him, he practically falls to his knees and crawls to my skirt, I hide the curl of my lip as he touches my fine satin dress.

“Thank you, my lady. God bless you. God bless you and your family.” I force myself to put my hand on the man’s head, giving him my blessing, “This crime cannot go unpunished, Master Devyn.” I say softly. He raises his head, mouth hanging open, the same fear returning. “You are to work under my Captain of Gaurds, Clotaire, and become a member of my household. I will not appreciate dishonesty or thievery, if you steal again my punishment will be considerably worse than the Sherriff’s. But should you be honest, valiant and loyal then there is much opportunity for you, Devyn.”

“Oh I will, my lady. I will. God bless you, God bless you.”

“You will come to Knighton today.”

“What of my wife and child?”

I sigh and look distraught, “That is part of your punishment, they must remain in Nottingham, while you are in Knighton. But you can send your wages onto them. After your punishment is served and your crime reprieved you may go back to them or bring them to Knighton, and continue working in my service.”

“God is most merciful, my lady.” And the man begins to murmur a fervent prayer in Latin, I turn to Sir Guy and smirk.

“He is indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Damn it, damn it, damn it. I knew something was wrong. I'm so sorry, I completely forgot I'd written two new chapters that are meant to be before the Sherriff's Supper. I am so sorry about this, just me being a bit of a numpty. I'm going to delete chapter eight just for now, then when I repost it, I'll put up the next chapter afterwards.


	9. Robin's View

"Robin! Robin!" Will and John run towards me, both breathing heavily, I get up as soon as they approach.  
"What is it? What news have you heard?"  
They stop in the clearing, the others eagerly gathering around.  
"It's that new woman, who we stopped a few weeks ago, the one who's in Knighton Hall." Will says.  
"Aye, turns out she's kin to Sir Edward and Marian." John nods his head.  
"I knew I recognised her!" I exclaimed, then frown, "Why did she not tell us she was related to Marian?"  
"It wasn't as though we asked her." Much says. John shushes him, but Djaq raises her hand.  
"Much has a point."  
I smile on seeing Much's proud look.  
"Careful Djaq, don't want Much turning into a peacock."  
"Did you know of her, when you were younger?" Will asks, he puts his arm around Djaq's waist and I feel a flicker of envy spill into my stomach and up my throat. I push aside the thought, I am not one to grow envious over my friends' happiness, it would be callous. I bade them all to sit, though have Allan stand guard while we talk.

"A little, I don't think she particularly liked me when we were young, but she loved Marian. They were very close. But what has happened?"  
"A man, Mark Devyn was accused of stealing. He stole a poultice for his sick daughter, when he could offer the Healer only a trade for it, not money." John says.  
"The Sherriff was going to have him hanged or have his hand chopped off." Will continues, I give a nod. There's no change there, though the punishment for stealing in the past was often sitting in the stocks or a fine.  
"Well what happened?" Tuck asks.  
"The Lady Anne stood up in front of the whole of the Council and begged for his life."  
Silence falls over the circle and even Allan turns his head in amazement, "Was she ignorant of the Sherriff's temper or just foolish?" he asks and the others shush him.  
"And then?" Djaq asks.  
"The Sherriff spoke with her in private, ranting, raving, everyone heard and after all that, he agreed with her. No one knows how she did it, she persuaded him to let Mark Devyn live and work as a guard in her household. He's not allowed to see his family for some time, but he has a wage and his freedom."

A long low whistle was heard from Allan's direction, "How in hell did she do that? No one persuades the Sherriff of Nottingham to spare a man's life."  
"Well from what we've seen she seems a gracious lady, runs an efficient household, but looks after her son and attends Mass, she even passed out coins to the poorer folk in the church." John said, considering his treatment to her during our robbery I was surprised by the tone of awe in his voice. Tuck nodded his head, he was impressed too. I wasn't so sure, something didn't quite sit right.  
"What do you think Robin?" Kate asked. I hid my irritation, her voice annoyed me, but she had only asked a reasonable question and I preferred a warm bed to a cold one.  
"I don't know. Marian and her used to be close, but a few years after she was married and Marian was invited to France they had a blazing row, they never apologised after that. I doubt this has been done for Marian's sake."  
"Well maybe it's been done for her own. Maybe the Lady Anne is like Marian, she cares about others." John said.  
"Or maybe she feels guilty because she never apologised to Marian." Much supplied.  
"Either way, Robin, you should visit her." Djaq said.  
"Why?"  
"Because if we win her over to our side, then she'd be a useful ally to have, apologise to her and then ask her to support us."

I frowned, something was stirring in the air, making it cold and I didn't like it one bit.  
"You're not normally this quiet." Kate's arms came round my chest, her own pressing into my back.  
"I don't like this Kate, it doesn't feel right. What if Anne betrays us?"  
"Find out, go to her at night when she's most defenceless and either persuade or threaten her into revealing what she's really about."  
"And if she lies?"  
"Well then we'll find out sooner or later." Kate said, though I don't think she realised how foolish her words sounded, she circled round me and embraced me, before lifting her chin and kissing me fully on the mouth. I close my eyes and desperately tried to feel Marian's waist beneath my fingers, her lips against mine, the dark, silky richness of her hair. I used to feel like a prick for doing that, but I can't help it and Kate never wonders why I am so silent when we make love. At least I don't think she does.


	10. The Fox and The Wolf

“I need a bath.” I call out to the servants and my manservant Geoffrey calls out ‘Right you are, my lady.’ He and my maid Bess carry the wooden bath to my room, before heading back down to the kitchen and beginning to heat up the water. Clotaire walks into the room and begins circling around our new guard like a bird of prey. Mark Devyn looks a little nervous, but he stands his ground.  
“This is our new guard?” Clotaire asks.  
“Yes.” I smile, “He needs a wash and I think you must get rid of his hair and clothing, they are crawling with lice.”  
Mark looks shocked, “My Lady, I have no others.”  
“Tis nothing to worry about; you will have a uniform with the Knighton crest upon it. See Clotaire already wears his and you will look very fine beside him.”  
“There’s never really been a guard at Knighton.” Mark says.  
“Well this is a new time. As a Lady of France I always had my own guard and it means that if anyone should ever ask of me to send reinforcements I can send men who are well trained, not just farmers and labourers.” I smile easily and Mark nods his head eagerly.

“Some of the water they’re heating can be used for your own washing. Edgard will help you shave your beard and hair off, don’t worry, it will grow back quickly. But for the safety of this household, it must be done.”  
“Oh I do not mind losing my hair, my lady. You have spared me a fate far worse than that.” Mark kisses my hand again and I smile sweetly, before putting my hand behind my back and rubbing it surreptitiously against my gown.  
“Clotaire see to it this man is feed, then once has washed himself burn his clothes and find him new ones.”  
Clotaire nodded, “But first, my lady, I must insist this man knows the debt he owes to you.”  
I raised my hand as though to object, but Mark fell to his knees, “Were it not for your kind and good lady, I would be dead and so would my family, I owe her so much more than my life.”  
“Then you swear to serve her faithfully and unwaveringly.” Clotaire continued.  
“I swear it.”  
“You swear to put the interests of this household before any other duty you may have.”  
“I swear it.”  
Clotaire smiled grimly and nodded, “Then rise up and let’s get some food in your belly and the lice out of your hair.”

Once the oath of allegiance is fulfilled, I go up to Grégoire’s room where Celine has put him to bed and finished reading to him.  
“Goodnight mon agneau.” I whisper, before kissing him on his head, he gives a soft smile and bids me goodnight. I continue to my own room, where the steamy tub of hot water awaits and I bring out my scents, lotions and pumice stone from France. Bess is still standing by the tub and she unlaces me from my dress.  
“Thank you Bess, you may go now.”  
“Yes, my lady.”  
“You don’t need to return, the tub can be removed in the morning and I can dress myself for bed.”

She smiles and gives a small curtsey before leaving me to the privacy of my room. I pull down the dress over my hips and then take off my undergarments. I sink heavily into the warm water and rest my tired muscles. I scrub at my arms, chest and legs with a bar of perfume soap, before rubbing my skin with a rough cloth and then washing the soap off with the water. I try to keep my eyes and hands busy, but I cannot help but linger over the scars on my shoulder, the marks across my stomach. I sink my head beneath the water, the noise of the household drowning out, so deathly quiet and nothing but the peaceful sound of water. But we must all resurface at some point. I bring my head up and reach out for my hair oils, but as I turn my head I can see they are not there. I frown; perhaps I left them on the bed, but I was certain I had brought it to the bath.  
“Good evening, Lady Anne.”  
I practically drown myself with shock, how did the outlaw bastard get into my bedroom? I peek behind the screen covering the top half of my body, seeing the man sitting casually on my bed and then quickly cover myself up with my arms, though he gives an irresponsible grin and raises his eyebrows. Hood raises a finger to his lips, I can hear someone running up the stairs, presumably because they nearly heard me drown myself.  
“Lady Anne, is everything well?” Gaurin calls from the other side of the door.  
“Yes. I just dropped the pumice stone into the bath.”  
There is silence for a moment, then “If you are sure, my lady.”  
“I am quite sure. I am perfectly well, Gaurin.”  
“Very well, my lady. Good night.”

We wait until his tread continues downstairs and Hood removes the finger from his lips.  
“Who are you?” I hissed.  
He looks momentarily surprised, “I thought you wouldn’t have forgotten me, Anna-Marie.”  
I blink with shock when he calls me by my old nickname.  
“I am Robin. Robin Hood. I was Robin of Locksley.”  
I gasp and quickly grab a sheet from a chair, wrapping it around my body and then stepping out from the privacy screen.  
“What are you doing here?” I whisper.  
“Seeing whose side you are on.”  
I sigh and roll my eyes, “I am on nobody’s side.” It is the truth, the only side I am on is my own.  
“But you saved Mark Devyn’s life, that must surely mean something.”  
It is time to put all my courtly manners and flattery into practice.  
“The punishment here was too harsh, I was shocked that a man’s life would be considered taken for want of payment for the poultice.”  
“Exactly, you can see how bad life is here, how badly the Sherriff treats others.”

I turn my back on Robin to hide my smile; he must be a bigger fool than I first thought. I pull my robe down from the door peg and pull it over my sheet to preserve my modesty. If Robin is so taken in by appearances, then I will gain all I can from him. I pull my hair over my shoulder and pick up my hair comb.  
“Why are you here exactly, Robin?”  
“I want to know how you managed to beg the Sherriff to spare Mark Devyn’s life.”  
I begin to brush the tangles from my hair, “He was at the French court when I was first married, my husband knew him.”  
“So you are close with him?”  
I smile softly, “I wouldn’t say close, Robin. He’s not exactly the easiest person to get along with.”  
“But he’s never done something like this before, spared someone’s life. How did you persuade him?”  
I sigh and tap the hairbrush against my leg, then give a little shrug, “I don’t know if it’s so much my persuasion or argument that swayed him. Perhaps because I am a single woman, with a good fortune and two sons already. The Sherriff may be old but it’s not unheard of for old men to marry young women. Perhaps that’s what he’s aiming for, though I really couldn’t say.”  
“And you’d consider that?” Robin asks. I bite back my laughter and smile at Robin.  
“No Robin, I may consider gaining some information for you, if that is what you’d wish. But I’d have to be a desperate woman indeed to marry the Sherriff.”  
“It shouldn’t come to that.” he says.  
“Well I should hope not.”

Robin lies back on my bed, lazily toeing the heel of his boot; I hope he isn’t expecting anything, for it shan’t be given. I put my hands on my hips and arch an eyebrow.  
“Why are you here, Lady Anne?” Robin asks, “I thought you had wealth and property in France?”  
I sigh, there’s no way of avoiding this subject at hand, I keep myself busy with rearranging the sheets and then brushing my hair again. I avoid his eye.  
“I did. But when I lost my husband, I lost the right over my old home due to my brother-in-law…he’s taken guardianship over my oldest boy and until I am married again I will not be able to claim my home or my boy back. I was fortunate to keep my dowry and pension.”  
“That does not sound very fortunate.” Robin sits up and approaches me; he looks as if he will hold my shoulders and so I quickly shift away from his reach. “My men have seen how you are protective over your youngest son, I am sure you miss your oldest terribly.”  
I smile sadly, “Of course I do, but I cannot do anything against how the tide has turned and I dare not marry anyone till I am sure of their purposes and in the honour to protect my sons. Rather than selling my old property in France and keeping my oldest boy in his uncle’s keeping. Until then I must wait.”  
Robin sighs and looks down to his boots, “We have all suffered in one way or another, at the hands of Prince John.”  
I know my expression is growing into confusion and Robin cocks his head, “Forgive me, but Prince John pays for my pension, he was the one who managed to persuade my mother-in-law into letting me keep my youngest son. He acknowledges my father’s support of him, his brother the King and their father.” I say in way of explanation.  
“And you know how he pays for your pension?” Robin asks.  
“Yes, the taxes and revenue that comes into his wealth.” I reply.  
“It is the taxes of the poor and destitute, the money you have is covered in their blood.”  
Most money is covered with some sort of blood and Robin is a fool to think it could be otherwise, but if the peasant lover wishes for me to go along with his day dreams, then I’m more than happy to.

“Oh but what can we do then?” I say and Robin smiles happily.  
“Join our side, spy for us, with your ability to gather information from Prince John and the Sherriff you can help us and surely you disagree with what they are doing to the poor people of England.”  
“Of course,” I lie, I couldn’t give a damn what happens to the poor people of England, but having more people think I am their ally and friend will serve me better than declaring them my enemy. “But can I ask for something in return?” I simper.  
Robin frowns, “It depends on what it would be, I cannot confess to having a great fortune anymore.”  
I smile sweetly at him, gently lay my hand on his shoulder and wipe away an imaginary piece of dust, Robin always shone in the attention of women and I am no longer the little girl trying to keep up with my cousin and her friend. I draw a look of such balefulness and sadness Robin places his hand on my shoulder.  
“I would like to know how my cousin died. I have heard so many rumours, it is impossible to say which ones have some basis in truth. I know she died in the Holy Lands, but how did my cousin get there?”  
Robin sits back on the bed once more, his back to me, I see him gather the material up into his hand, his clenched fist tightly over the velvet bedspread.  
“She was with me; we had gone to the Holy Land to defend the King from a plot created by Vaisey and Prince John. Before all this she had persuaded Sir Guy of Gisborne that she loved him, so she could find out information that would benefit us, but once the plot to kill King Richard was revealed she left Gisborne to join us and fight for England.” He stops and takes in a gasping breath.  
“And then?” I ask.  
“At one point King Richard was injured and Sir Guy was meant to finish him off, but Marian stood in front of the King and begged Sir Guy not to kill him. Sir Guy killed her instead. I got there too late…I couldn’t defend her.” his shoulders hunch and he gazes miserably down at the floor, I gently squeeze his shoulder. He has told me part of the truth, I can tell that much, but he has not told me all of it.

“You are a good man, Robin. Never doubt your conviction.” I give a long, drawn out sigh, “I have much to think about, knowing this. But I do know I will stand with you and do all I can, without raising suspicion, to help your cause.”  
Robin quickly seizes my hand and kisses it, “You are a good lady, good for saving Mark Devyn and better for helping our cause. We will see King Richard returned.”  
I do not let any emotion across my face, except for a false look of hope and sadness for my cousin, but I am surprised by how quickly he can forget my cousin’s death for his political ideal. Somehow I feel that Robin’s late arrival was not solely down to the slowness of his pace, but his willingness to put Marian in harm’s way for his own cause. But then that has always been the case of men, everything must be sacrificed, even those they claim to love.

“You must go.” I whisper, “My Captain of Guards, Clotaire has the ears of a fox and I wish to pray for my cousin’s soul.”  
Robin gives another bow, then runs over to the window, climbs over the sill and out of sight. I put my robe back on the door and go to the cooler bath, to wash my hair. As my hair drifts around my shoulders I muse to myself, ‘So that was how my cousin died.’ She played with one man’s affections, a dangerous man, the lone, unknown wolf. She stroked his fur and ran her hands over his ears, and then everyone was surprised when she got bitten. Both she and Robin seem like fools, but I cannot help but feel sorry for my cousin, she had pretended to love a wolf and in many ways pretended to love a boy. Robin was still the same, an ignorant child in the forests of Sherwood, building forts and camps, fighting what he believed were great battles with wooden swords and arrows. No woman in her right mind wishes to marry a boy, but Marian could not handle a man.

I get out of the bath, dry myself off and then after putting my nightgown on, kneel by the foot of my bed. I will pray but not for Marian’s soul or my own, I will pray for the advancement of my own cause and certainly not Robin’s.  
“Actiones nostras, quaesumus Domine, aspirando praeveni et adiuvando prosequere: ut cuncta nosta oratio et operatio a te semper incipiat et per ta coepta finiatur. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.*”  
I blow out my candle and climb into bed, smiling to myself in the darkened room. So the outlaws were watching me or listening to gossip, this was turning out better than I thought. Robin was used to people saying what they thought and being honest with their words; if it did not serve me well, then I would never be truly honest. It would be a fool’s errand to follow Robin’s cause. Poor, misguided Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry for the ridiculous delay. Uni and my job have kept me very busy, but I won't deny I could've posted before now. So hopefully someone's still reading and enjoying this! Thanks :) xx
> 
> Translation:  
> Latin: Go before us, O Lord, we beseech Thee, in all our doings with Thy gracious inspiration, and further us with Thy continual help, that every prayer and work of ours may begin from Thee, and by Thee be duly ended. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.


	11. Hatching Eggs

It had been a few days since Robin’s visit and I had not yet gone to the castle. It would draw too much suspicion if Robin’s gang were spying on me. It was a fair day, warm enough to sit outside in my cloak, with a book in my hands and watch my boy practice swordplay with Clotaire and Mark, Mark has had as little experience as my boy though he is of course stronger and taller; but Clotaire is teaching both and making good use of their inexperience. He gives Grégoire some drills to go through with a straw dummy and then continues the practice with Mark. I watch them all parry and strike within the stable yard. Grégoire will need a tutor soon and a good one and I cannot always have Clotaire teach my son, he will soon be busy with his own guards and in training them.

I can teach Grégoire French and Latin, even some music and literature, but it would be better to have someone else teach him about logic, rhetoric and the study of arithmetic. I smile, Marian always hated it when I would switch into Latin or French at will, because she could not understand it, I am fortunate my father gave me some decent education, though many laughed at his efforts. I did try to teach Marian but she always said she could not see the point of learning French or Latin when she lived in England. Then again Marian could never see beyond the borders of her garden. I sigh and look back down to my book. Perhaps I am too harsh; judging by what Robin said she could clearly go a little further than her garden and I didn’t doubt her bravery, just her wit. Did Robin truly believe the King would return? Even if the war in the Holy Land ended, I highly doubted the King would return to England, he was far more likely to return to France. He loved it there and I clearly remembered several nights were my husband had called me to his side…

* * *

 

The room smelt of wine, dark perfume, sweet fruits, an intoxicating scent of sin. Candle light flickered, but the fire was unlit and the room was warmed by the closeness of the men.

“Ah good, the Lady Anne. God, Robert…Lady Anne you are a lucky woman, your husband is very beautiful.” The men in that private company roared with laughter and the King beckoned me over. I stepped nearer his chair and his smile grew wider. “Come sit on my lap, little Anne, I wanted to admire those very pretty eyes of yours.”

“Yes, she has a lovely pair.” One of the men teased. I looked over to my husband, who gave a short nod and so I went over to the King, sitting in his lap, his large hands soothing my back, running over my waist.

“Why have you not got this wench pregnant yet, Lord Robert?” The King asked. I blushed and the King’s hand cupped my face, while some ribbing went on about my husband’s fertility and prowess in the bed, or lack of it.

“Don’t fear, gentle lady. You are very beautiful. But your husband is more so.” The King whispered. I knew I should have felt insulted and disgusted, but I didn’t. I didn’t feel anything. I glanced at my husband, he gave a little shrug, the King desired him, and nothing could be done about that.

“Brother that is enough.” A quiet, but assured voice came from the other end of the room.

“Ah John, you’re no fun.”

“It is not fun or right to mock a lady and make her sit in your lap like a common tart.”

“My brother always was a self-righteous, little bastard.” the King whispered amusedly into my ear, but he patted my back in a gesture telling me I could go. He called out to his brother, “Well then John, why don’t you accompany this lady back to her room.”

There was a little more laughing and teasing how John would take advantage of me behind my husband’s back. Robert declared he would be a cuckold within the hour. Prince John’s face was hidden in half shadow, but he came towards me and offered me his arm.

 

“I hope you are not insulted, Lady Anne. My brother is in high spirits and very drunk, I would beg you not to take anything he said to heart.” John said once we had reached my door and he lingered outside. He was roughly the same height as myself, the King and my husband were both taller than I; he had a broad chest and curly dark red hair.

“I thank you, your grace.”

He smiled and then bowed to kiss my hand, while it was still clasped in his he drew nearer to me, he bent his head to whisper in my ear, “You are truly a lady of great beauty, I would ask only for a kiss if you would lower yourself to give it.”

The blush came readily to my cheeks and I looked away from him, “You are a Prince, I would not be lowering myself to give it, it is surely the opposite that is true?”

“Good.” He lifted my chin and kissed me fully on my mouth, his hand drawing me closer, gripping tightly around my waist, before letting me go. He smiled, touched my cheek, then turned on heel and walked into the darkened corridor. I stayed by my door, understanding so much more now I was here.

* * *

 

“Mama.” A little hand shook my arm.

“Hmm? Sorry, darling, I was miles away.”

“Sir Guy is here.” I glanced up across the stable yard, seeing my groomsman Harold holding onto the reins of Sir Guy’s horse, Sir Guy himself lingering by his horse and watching both my son and I. Clotaire and Mark were doing nothing to hide their obvious dislike, but they continued on with their sword practice. I got up and walked towards him.

“Sir Guy.” I said coolly, Grégoire had his hand tightly gripped on my skirt and he glowered up at the man. I rested my hand on Grégoire’s head.

“Lady Anne.” he gave a bow, then glanced down to my boy. “You guard your mother well, young sir.”

I was surprised by that, Sir Guy did not appear one who liked children and while not hurting them, probably ignored them at best. No one could ever deny that Sir Guy wasn’t courteous when he wanted to be.

“Thank you, sir.” Grégoire respectfully replied. Sir Guy smiled a little then looked up to me.

“Could I speak to you privately? No servants, nor anyone else.”

“Yes, of course.” I turn round and walk towards my home, “Grégoire stay outside with Clotaire, once I have finished talking to Sir Guy I will come back out.”

“My lady, do you need anyone to stand guard outside the door?” Mark asked, I smiled at his declaration of loyalty, even though he would probably be useless in a fight against this man.

“No, Mark. I doubt Sir Guy is a match for me.” I joke and Mark gives a small bow, though his expression does not change and he makes it quite clear he does not like Sir Guy. I continued inside to my private study and asked Bess to fetch us some ale. The grimace on Sir Guy’s face suggest he’d prefer wine, but I wish to grow accustom to English tastes and they clearly prefer ale to wine here. Bess brings a flagon and two cups, I bid her leave and ask for no one to disturb us, then pour the ale into each cup.

“So what brings you to Knighton?”

He flinches and then takes a large gulp of ale, “There have been rumours.”

“Rumours?” I frown, there are many rumours about me, some I have created myself, both in France and England. Sir Guy’s suggestion does not narrow any categories down as to what rumours we speak of.

“Yes. Rumours abound that you have met with Robin Hood, but have not come to Nottingham Castle to tell us so.” his voice rises in anger. I take a small sip from my cup.

“I would not say I had visited him, more that he visited me.”

“So he dared to enter your bedroom and you did not call a guard?”

“No, I did not call a guard.”

“Nor did you take measures in ensuring your safety or security here?”

“No.”

“Then you have betrayed us.” he stands up quickly.

“No.”

“Then why did you not come up to the Castle and tell us straight away–?”

“Why do you think?” I asked calmly.

Sir Guy stops in his rant, his forehead creased with lines of anger, his eyes ablaze. But my question has stumped him.

“Why do you think I would not make my way to the Castle, after Hood has visited me having learnt what I did for Mark Devyn? Why do you think?”

“I could have you arrested. You are fortunate that the Sherriff has yet to hear this.”

“Ah so you are going behind the Sherriff’s back too!” I smirk, “I thought you said you did not care for my life.”

“I don’t,” he glares at me, “I wish to understand why you would construct such a large amount of falsehoods…”

“If I went to the Castle with news that Robin had visited me, his outlaws would know. Either they are listening to gossip or spying on me, or a mixture of the two. Had I gone to the Castle they would know I was not to be trusted.” I smile, “You seem a clever man, Sir Guy, work out for yourself, why I did not go up to the Castle or send a letter to the Sherriff?” 

He pauses and thinks for a while, then says, “You have won their trust, they believe you will go against us?”

“And all because I happen to be related to the people who lived here, I used to know Robin and my husband fought in the Holy Land. That’s their belief. But now they have ‘evidence’ to back it up, they believe I have close ties with the Sherriff, that he wishes to have me for his wife and so, I can persuade him, I can work against him while he desires my fortune and my land. That’s how I saved Mark Devyn.”

“But he does not.” Sir Guy says, “He has no desire to marry you.”

I shrug, “Robin Hood does not know that and indeed the Sherriff merely needs to give an appearance of considering to marry me. It is something Vaisey would do; marry a young, rich woman, of higher birth than he. Do not you see? They trust me and if I give them a few, inconsequential details and clues, they will believe me serving them.”

“Who are you serving then?” Sir Guy snarls.

“Whoever best serves my interests and currently that is you and Vaisey, though I assure you, supporting some outlaw gang with a half-baked scheme of getting the King back to England and taking Prince John from the position of regent will never be of any interest of mine.”

“You swear it.” Sir Guy’s hand lingers on his knife tucked into his belt and I smile assuredly.

“I swear it; you can promise Vaisey that when I next come up to the Castle – think of some decent excuse or wait till the feast – I will address these matters further. But if I went galloping up to Castle the day after Robin visited me, I would have lost that source; none of them would ever have trusted me again.”

“How can we trust you? How can we know you are not saying the exact same thing to Hood, Lady Anne?”

I smirk, “You can’t. This is the life of court and power, you can never trust anyone. Not even your own family, though I hope to avoid such a matter with Grégoire and my oldest son. I will always serve my own interests, rather than yours or anyone else’s.”

“Then what’s in this for you?” Sir Guy frowns.

“Hmm, keeping favour within the court, supporting a would-be King, who is more likely to stay in this country for five minutes rather than fight in a war that need not concern us; in doing so gaining back my land, property and the guardianship of my sons without marrying.” I shrug, “I suppose you are right, there isn’t a lot in it for me. The alternative is support a deluded bunch of outlaws, who clearly do not even have King Richard’s support or else he would come back to England to recover from his injuries, rather than remain in France. And surely the one major factor in deciding whether I would go to the outlaws is something I am clearly not meant to know, or else you and Vaisey did not think it worth telling me.”

His body stiffens and he drinks down the rest of his ale, “What is that?”

“That you killed my cousin.” His eyes shift up from his drink and I am pleased to see the look of horror and panic on his face, I lean back into my chair. “Robin gave me his version of events. I’d like to hear yours.”

Sir Guy shakes his head, “I would sooner be damned then answer that.”

“Considering you murdered somebody, surely you already are?” He leaps up from his chair, his hand back to his dagger and I smile blithely at him. His hand grasps the neckline of my dress.

“What, will you deny it? Will you tell me you didn’t murder my cousin?” He pulls me out of the chair and pins me against the wall, his arm held against my throat, his other hand still lingering at his waist where the dagger is held.

“I could easily do the same to you.” he says.

“You could. But you won’t.”

He pushes me further against the wall, bearing down on me, “Don’t try me, woman.”

I smirk, “If you wanted to, you would have done it five minutes ago.” He breathes heavily against me and then foolishly leans closer into me. I arch my hips against his, slowly thrusting a little against the leather of breeches. Even through the tough material I can feel his body responding; I smile and gaze into piercing grey eyes, he seems at a lost as to what to say, but his free hand move towards my hips. I put my hands about his neck.

“She didn’t want you?” I murmur. He releases me, shoving me back towards my desk with full contempt. I smooth down the fabric of my skirt and neck. Sir Guy gives me one final look, before marching swiftly towards the door, pulling it open and slamming it closed behind him. I giggle softly and then finish off my ale, picking up my cloak from my chair, the book I was reading and heading back outside.

Grégoire is standing by Sir Guy’s horse, gently petting his nose; the animal seems a friendly beast, unlike his master. Sir Guy mounts his horse and Grégoire runs to my side. It reminds me, Grégoire will need to learn how to ride soon as well, but that would be a good Christmas gift; a hardworking, steady pony, not too small or fat, with a decent stride. I smile as Sir Guy rides off, brushing my hand through Grégoire’s hair.

“You need a bath tonight.” I say.

“Oh mama, noooooo!”

“Ah, no arguing.”

Grégoire stamps inside, muttering fiercely to himself, something about there being better things to be doing than washing.

“Grégoire, take your boots off.” I call to him. I hear him in the hallway, removing his boots with much stomping and huffing. I hide my laughter, resume my seat and take out the book mark in my book. The sun still glimmers across the stable yard, bright and golden. I feel content, I have set my hall to rights, brought order to my peasants and I am fulfilling my own duty. If I did not wish to gain my oldest boy back so badly, I would consider remaining unwed, seeing to my own happiness and that of my sons’. Not allowing any man to tamper with my own business and home.

“I bet Sir Guy doesn’t have to take his boots off.” Grégoire yells from the Hall.

‘I bet Sir Guy doesn’t have to do a lot of things.’ I think to myself, instead I call out, “I thought you didn’t like him?”

Grégoire sticks his head out of the door, “I don’t, but I like his horse.” and then marches back inside, as though that explained everything. I laugh then, only for Grégoire to poke his head out of the dining hall window and shout. “Mother don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not and don’t shout, Grégoire.”

“I’m not shouting, I’m just talking quite loudly and Sir Guy also calls me sir.” I roll my eyes and turn back to my book. “Don’t you like him mama?”

“I am not too fussed either way.”

Grégoire stops for a moment in consideration, “Hmm, I think I like him.” he disappears inside and I can hear Bess chivy him upstairs, much to his chagrin.

I cannot understand how my boy would like such a tall, glowering type of man, but then Grégoire used to hide boiled eggs under his pillow to see if they would hatch, so anything is possible. As I gaze out towards the woods I see the tree branches quiver slightly, though the wind has died down. I smile and shift my gaze down to my book, so I am being spied on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apologies for the huge delay. The last month proved an incredibly busy time for Uni assignments and normal work was very stressful, so I lacked all energy and motivation to write/post anything up. I know, I had stuff to post and I was just very lazy. Really there are no excuses. So I beg your forgiveness, my readers.
> 
> History-wise: As I was doing my research, I found out that there is a decent amount of evidence that suggests Richard the Lionheart was either homosexual or bisexual. So that was certainly interesting, a nice contrast between some stereotypes of homosexuality and how we envision this King, and I definitely wanted to include it.


	12. The Sherriff's Supper

"My Lords and Ladies, the Lady Anne of Knighton." The Steward of the castle calls my name and I step forward into the brightly lit hall, the dark carpets muffling the click of my heels as I approach the high table and curtsey to the Sherriff. I lean a little forward so he and the other lords around him can see the sweet curve of my breasts, the deliciousness of a promise not kept. The dress cuts low across my chest and shoulders; it is in the colours of my old house, grey and blue, the dress itself made from dark, rich blue velvet, an underskirt of pearl grey and the neckline, sleeves and waist trimmed with silver silk. The small train of the dress I have embroidered with my own pattern of silver trailing leaves. It serves as a reminder, a promise. Marry me and you have everything of my dead husband's. It is more than these little nobles could ever hope for. I smile as I feel eyes upon me and see from the corner of my eye heads swivel towards me.

"Lady Anne, you are welcome to Nottingham Castle." the Sherriff simpers and gives me a leering smile. Sir Guy stands at his side, his eyes remain fixed on me as I bring my head up and offer the Sherriff a warm, flirtatious smile.   
  
"I am most glad to be here Lord Vaisey. Your welcome was most kind and very flattering."

"You of course know Sir Guy of Locksley," Sir Guy gives me a short bow during his introduction; "This is Sir Jasper." He indicates another man by his side. Sir Jasper is a tall man, with some features similar to Prince John, a small beard and thick head of brown hair. Perhaps a secret bastard brother. He doesn't exactly thrill me though.

Sir Jasper walks forward, a horrible leer on his face, "My lady, there can be no other woman who compares to your beauty." I smile, though my stomach sickens at his words and when he places a kiss on my outstretch hand. I glance up towards Vaisey and see Sir Guy hiding a smile. I raise my head a little more.

"This is Lord Sheridan." Vaisey gestures to a man busy with a plate at the table. I keep my face neutral, but dear God he is fat. He gives me a pudgy smile when he turns and I bite my tongue to stop my lip from curling as he places his crumby mouth on my hand. "And there are others, but you can find them for yourself." The Sherriff waves his hand as though he couldn't care less I attended. Sir Guy has a very smug look on his face, but I smile blithely and give another curtsey, it's not as though I lack for attention. I can see several older women already forming a tight grip on their husband's arm, I am one of the youngest and prettiest women here and I will certainly use that for my advantage. I head over to a small group of young knights and lords, giving them a suggestive curtsey and smile.

* * *

 

Sir Anthony of Stapleford interests me, with his fine cheekbones, blue eyes and soft curled hair. He shares my delight in literature, though whether he has a cunning mind is another matter, perhaps it would not be so bad to have a husband I could control and manipulate. But as I take a place next to him, Vaisey calls down to me.

"Lady Anne, you cannot sit there. There is a seat next to Sir Guy, take that one." It would be embarrassing and rude to argue in public, though I cannot see why I am moved and so it seems the same with several lords and ladies, who give me bitter looks as I pass. I almost want to laugh; they really think their petty, jealous looks can inspire me to tears? I take the seat next to Sir Guy and give him an intimate grin; he swiftly looks away, the superior look gone from his smug little face. "To avoid favouritism, Lady Anne. You must enjoy your dinner without half the men fighting for your attention." The Sherriff smiles, giving me a wink.

"Though you have shown me enough, my lord." I flirt back and the Sherriff laughs broadly.

"Yet you have the lady Anne sit near to Sir Guy." Sir Jasper sneers.

Vaisey rolls his eyes, "Trust me that's doing her no favours." The hall erupts into laughter and though I bring a smile onto my face I cannot help but feel a little sorry for Sir Guy, it is fair enough if he is on the receiving end of my jokes, but I do so in private, not to his face in a public hall. I see the unyielding clench of his fist on the table and the tightness of his jaw. Eventually the hall falls quiet and the talking between the guests takes hold, though Sir Guy does not even look at me as a servant fills his cup with wine and then comes to my side to do the same. A vegetable broth is the first course served with salad, bread and cheeses. As a manservant sets my bowl on the table I turn to Sir Guy.

"I know we do not always get along well, but I think that was unkind."

He picks up his spoon and without even looking at me says, "I care not for your opinion, nor the remembrance of it."

I sigh and pick up my own spoon, "I was just trying to be polite."

"Well you rarely succeed at it, so why bother starting now?" I keep my mouth from dropping open at the sharpness of his wit, but Sir Guy's smug little smile has resumed its place of honour!

"Well if you prefer me to be sour and sharp…" I begin.

"I prefer you out of sight and silent."

"So you'd prefer me dead then?" I whispered.

He catches my eye and smirks, "Perhaps, but so far the Sherriff seems to think you have more value if you are alive."

I raise the soup spoon to my lips, "I'm surprised you can so easily admit that, considering what I was told about my cousin." His jaw tightens and I carefully break the bread on my plate. "So why did the Sherriff see fit to place my by your side? Not that I mind the delightful and thought-provoking company." I tease.

"He desires to know everything you spoke about with Robin Hood and what exactly you agreed with him."

"I agreed to help him, in whatever subtle way I could, and in return…well actually I don't think he bothered to give me anything in return, just the assurance it was for the good of the country."

"While you maintain your loyalties to us?"

I giggle, "Ah Gisborne, I have told you, I am only loyal to whoever serves my best interests."

"But Robin could not offer you anything of worth or value?"

"No. What could a mangy outlaw offer me? Certainly not safety and security, if that's what he was thinking, I have my two sons to fear for and I have no desire to camp out in the woods."

"Good." Sir Guy growled, he then leaned over to Vaisey and quickly murmured something to him, the Sherriff gave a nod, murmured something back and then continued eating, before turning to Sir Jasper and continuing their conversation. "The Sherriff wants to know what you have offered the outlaws to gain their trust?" he says to me.

"Information. Some of it must be true and of some importance, but the rest can be half-true or of little significance. Eventually I may even be able to give them some information that will lead to their capture."

"And your guard, Mark Devyn?"

"Busy training with the other guards and Clotaire, other men must join my guards, but I should only take on one or two poachers, otherwise the outlaws will grow suspicious."

"Lady Anne, what are you and Sir Guy so deep in conversation about?" Lord Sheridan asks, wiping a dribble of broth away from his chin. Sir Guy instantly tenses and I nearly roll my eyes at his jumpy manner.

"Oh, nothing that would probably interest you, my lord. I was telling Sir Guy how I needed to find a tutor for my son, Grégoire."

Lord Sheridan wiped his lips and pointed his spoon at me, "I know an excellent tutor, my lady. Master Flentworth, very good man, you'd have to send your son away though to Kent."

"Oh well that's not going to happen, I'm sure I can find someone nearby." I smile sweetly at him, hiding my disgust when he stuffs a whole bread roll in his mouth, bits of bread flying out while he continues speaking.

"Typical womanish nonsense, eh Sir Guy? You'll do the lad no favours if you cling onto him and mother him too much. It turns a man soft."

"Oh do you have experience of such things then Lord Sheridan?" I simper. While Lord Sheridan rambles on, I hear a choking noise beside me and I flick my eyes to the left. Sir Guy coughs once more and then picks up his wine glass, a smile on his lips. Well that's a miracle in itself, making the man smile, let alone laugh. Lord Sheridan's neighbour soon begins speaking of something else to the vile man and I turn to Sir Guy, a smile on my lips.

"Don't think I like you any the more just for that." he murmurs.

I grin, "But I guess I rank slightly higher in your favour than Lord Sheridan."

Guy smirks, "The man's an idiot. At least you have a brain between your ears, though it is devilish and cunning."

"I thought men admired women with wit."

He chuckles softly, "Perhaps, but then it does not take much to outwit Lord Sheridan." I stifle my own giggle and I am relieved when the second course is brought in, different types of sliced meat, green vegetables and carrots, small pies and again fine white bread and soft cheeses are laid out on the table. Despite how good the food looks I remember I am a Lady of both England and France and only add a small amount of the different meats, greens and bread to my plate.

"You are not hungry?" Sir Guy asks me.

"No I am, this was how I was trained to eat in the courts, both of England and France."

"You would not last a day in Sherwood." Sir Guy mutters, downing his goblet of wine once more.

"Differing circumstances, Sir Guy. Were I in Sherwood I'm sure you would find me gnawing on a pheasant leg."

"Were you in Sherwood I would kill you on sight."

I grit my teeth at that, what is it with him and Robin apparently forgetting all about my cousin, the woman they so easily proclaimed to love? Yet Robin forgets all his woes for his attempt at glory and justice. Guy swears he will kill me every five minutes, as though he did not do the same to a woman only two years my senior. "You're a bastard." I mutter.

"And you, madam, better keep your mouth shut before I cut your tongue out."

I laugh brightly, "I'd like to see you try."

He turns back to his dinner, clicking his fingers at the servant behind us who quickly refills Sir Guy's goblet. I lean in closer to him, my elbow resting on the table, my breast pressing a little closely to his chest. If men wish to wipe us women from history, that of the world's and their own, then I shall do the opposite. I will remind him how desperately he wanted my cousin.

"Tell me Sir Guy, how long has it been since you lay with a woman?" He turns fierce eyes upon me; but despite the anger, hatred and sadness in their depths, there is also something else, something that darkens his expression and makes his pupils swell. He desires me. I lean towards him, letting my breath tickle his ear and my breasts shifting higher on his chest. He glares at me.

"Do not flatter yourself…"

"Me? Flatter myself? I assure you Sir Guy, the flattery is all yours. Half the men in this room want me for their wife and the rest want me in their bed."

"Even Vaisey?"

I chuckle at that, "Perhaps, who can say with Vaisey."

"Well, I hold no desire for your company either at my side or in my bed."

I shrug, "I know you're lying. Did you so desperately hope for my cousin you avoided other women's company? If you did, it must have been a terribly _aching, long_ year for you." I smirk when I see his hand clench on the table again, before a shout rings from the lower end of the hall.

"Hey, Sherriff, you said placing Lady Anne by Sir Guy would stop favouritism, when clearly she is showing him plenty!"

"Courtly flattery, I assure you." Vaisey laughs. The hall once more rings with bawdy mirth and Vaisey loudest with them. Sir Guy looks in pain once more and his attention fixes on his dinner, though he raises not a morsel to his lips. Once again the laughter dies down, though there are still some nudges and winks thrown in my direction. Sir Guy leans back over to Vaisey and they talk quietly for a few minutes. I continue with my own dinner, till a loud clap of thunder makes half the ladies in the room scream. I pray it will not rain, I did not come by coach, but on horseback and my cloak will not keep out any fierce weather. Rain begins to pitter-patter on the windows and I give a sigh, at least I can pray it shall not get any worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't even attempt an apology for the lateness of this chapter. It's undeniably, disgustingly late. I just hope I still have some readers left and that you enjoy it!


	13. Wind and Rain

The rain slams against the window panes, lightening cracks the sky with bright flashes of white light and the thunder rumbles in the distance. There is no chance I will make it through this without being soaked to my skin. I wonder if I can find someone who is travelling in the direction of Knighton and who came to Nottingham Castle in a litter. I humbly beg several Knights and Lords but most live away from Knighton, even Lord Sheridan cannot give me a ride home. Eventually Sir Anthony comes to my side.

“Many of those here will be staying overnight in the Castle, my lady. Why not ask Lord Vaisey if you can do the same?”

I blink with surprise then blush, “I do not have a room here, nor did I ask for one beforehand.”

Sir Anthony gives me a willing smile, “Not to worry, I’m sure the Sheriff can find somewhere for you to sleep. Did not your cousin have a room here?” he offers me his arm and leads me to Sheriff, I swallow nervously, call me superstitious or whatever you please; I have no desire to sleep in my dead cousin’s room. Perhaps there is a small guest room I can take instead.

“My lord, you cannot expect the Lady Anne to go home in this foul weather, it would be a death sentence.” Sir Anthony says. Vaisey frowns.

“Have you no litter, Lady Anne?”

“I do, my lord. But I have had to call in a carpenter to repair one of the wheels. I rode here on my horse.”

He nods and purses his lips, then shrugs, “Stay in your cousin’s room, then. No one else will use it.”

“They say it is haunted.” Sir Jasper snickers, Vaisey smirks.

“Peasant nonsense.” he says. I dearly wish to protest and beg for another room, but I cannot look like a credulous fool with beliefs in ghosts and the dead spirits of those who have been betrayed. I keep my face calm and smile at Vaisey.

“Thank you, my lord. I will be sure to tell you whether my cousin has come back to complain about me throwing out her dresses.” Vaisey laughs and leans in closer.

“I doubt that’s all your cousin would complain about.”

“True, she could go on.”

He smirks, “I know you know about what Gisborne did.”

I nod, “It was why Robin Hood so readily believed I would support him, but I had lost near all affection for my cousin and she made it quite clear she found my company displeasing.”

“A foolish woman indeed.” Vaisey grins, “Every man here seems to find your company quite delightful.”

“Every man, except Sir Guy.” I whisper.

“What are you two whispering about?” Sir Jasper calls over to us, pouring himself another glass of wine.

“Oh nothing, nothing. Just plotting everyone’s demise, Sir Jasper.” Vaisey snickers.

“Ah so the Lady Anne has joined your schemes.”

“Indeed she had, I needed someone beautiful and clever. So Sir Guy can be the beauty, Lady Anne can be the brains.” he sneers and the men all laugh again, Sir Guy keeps his back straight and the hand on the flagon of wine tightens as he pours it. I wonder if this is a game they often play. It reminds me of my own time in court, with my husband, the King and his brother, and all the jokes at my expense. I would even feel sorry for Sir Guy, if he were not a complete bastard. Some of the guests linger, others head straight to their bedrooms. I am about to go to my own, with some trepidation, when Sir Guy catches my eye and subtly shakes his head.

He comes over to me, “You will bid us all goodnight, but the servant will take you to the Sheriff's study. He wishes to speak with you.”

“Will you be there as well?” I ask and he nods quickly, before marching back over to the Sheriff, while I listen to Lord Sheridan witter on about the cost of wool. Strangely I feel slightly relieved that Sir Guy will be there too, though I know both he and Vaisey could easily slit my throat. Perhaps I think Sir Guy maintains some semblance of control, whereas Vaisey does not.

“Well we must ensure the profits of wool remain high enough. Now, I’m afraid feminine culpability overcomes me, Lord Sheridan, I must to bed.” I simper to his lordship.

“Of course, of course, my lady.” He bends at the waist and gives my hand another kiss, “I hope your dreams are sweet and we get the chance to meet again, I do like your company, Lady Anne.”

“Thank you, my lord and the same to you.”

“Though I must confess something,” I sigh inwardly as he takes me to one side and I surreptitiously take a breath in to avoid smelling his foul breath, “I think, my lady, you have been allowed a little too much freedom. Either by your old husband or through your widowhood. A lady is of a delicate nature; too much freedom gives her too many false ideas and ideals. You do understand?”

I smile sweetly and Lord Sheridan’s chubby face breaks into a smile, “Of course, Lord Sheridan. Though I must remain single a while longer, my year of widowhood is not yet up.” I greatly desire to show Lord Sheridan my own ‘delicate nature’, by punching him in the face; odious man.

“But I would advise you begin searching as soon as you can, then once you have found such a man, you may be betrothed to him and married as soon as the year is up.”

“What a splendid idea.” I murmur, “But now I really must be off to bed. Thank you for your advice, Lord Sheridan, it was well appreciated.” He gives another bow and as I passed by the small group of lords, knights and the Sheriff I curtsey and say, “Goodnight, my lords, my lord Sheriff. Thank you again for allowing me to stay and your hospitality.”

He waves his hand and gives a small smile, “Not at all, my lady. Goodnight.”

~~~

The servant leads me along the corridors, up a flight of stairs until I finally reach Vaisey’s study. A fire is still burning in the fireplace and rich hangings line the walls, a dark desk is placed in the centre of the room with a high backed chair and another one facing the desk, there are no books, only piles of papers and quill pens on the desk. There is also a window seat, where I consider sitting for a few moments; but know if I do then I will probably fall asleep and sleeping in a room with two murderers, far away from anyone else is probably not a good idea. I pace around the room for a few moments, lingering by the fire, before sitting in the chair facing the desk. It’s not a good idea to have my back to the door, but the wooden chair will stop me from falling asleep. I examine the papers on the desk, but for the most part they are execution orders and the records of taxes. I put them back down; I will not have Vaisey grow suspicious about me. Eventually the door swings open and I get up from the desk. Sir Guy and Vaisey enter, Sir Guy closes the door as Vaisey marches over to his desk and sits down, I hear the bolt pulled across the door. I sigh and go to the door, pulling the bolt back.

“What–?” he begins furiously. “If someone tries to spy on us and lingers by the door, you won’t have time to pull the bolt back and catch them.” I point out and hear Vaisey’s chuckle.

“She is good, Giz.” I smile smugly and stand by a corner of the desk, waiting for Sir Guy to sit down in the free chair, but he remains by the door and Vaisey offers me the seat. I take it without complaint, but remain aware of Sir Guy lingering behind me.

“So you spoke to Hood?” Vaisey says, placing his fingers together and smiling nastily over them.

“Yes, I did. I gained his trust; he has fallen entirely for the deception of taking Devyn as my guard. Give me a few details; some will have to be important, some of little or no importance.”

“Gisborne says you can then ensnare him by misleading him with the information I give.” I hear Sir Guy shift his weight and folding his arms over his chest…good, out of reach of his dagger, while I keep my hand by mine, hidden by a fold in my dress.

“Eventually, but do it too soon and he may slip from my net. You’ve clearly had no luck catching him before, so do not expect to catch him straight away. The best way would be to split him up from his beloved outlaws; if we get them to split into small groups then they are easily dealt with. Kill the leader when he is parted from his friends, the supporters lose their head, they fight amongst themselves and turn on one another. Thus they are easier to divide and kill. But Robin must be kept apart from the others.”

Sir Guy shifts from his position at the door and comes to my side, “We have tried to do such a thing before, but always Hood’s men come to his aid.”

“Then we must ensure there are enough guards to take on both Hood and his men. Have you considered hiring mercenaries?” Vaisey grumbles under his breath. “Pardon, my lord?” I ask.

“The expense.” Vaisey mutters and glowers at me.

I sigh and roll my eyes, “Well it’s a case of capturing Robin or not, there is only one chance at doing this and doing it right. Or he will know I am not true to his cause and will never trust me again, unless I can persuade him otherwise, which is highly unlikely. Were such a thing to happen I would have to assure him that you did not trust me and so I could no longer be of any value to him.”

Vaisey slowly nodded, then his flicked back to mine and narrowed, “And can we trust you Lady Anne? Can we be assured that you will not be like that bitch of a cousin of yours?”

I smile evenly, “My lord, I am not my cousin. But I assure you, you have far more to offer me than Robin of Sherwood ever could.”

The Sheriff leaned back in his chair and studied me intently for a moment, then he smiled that old, cankerous smile of his and murmured, “Good. You may go Lady Anne. Pleasant dreams.” I shivered as a cold wind blew down the chimney and the flames flickered in the grate, I vaguely wondered whether I should pray for God’s guarding. Though I knew He was unlikely to answer me.

“Goodnight, my lords.”

“Giz show Lady Anne to her room.” Sir Guy looked as if he would argue, but instead he griped my arm tightly and dragged me from the study.

~~~

We arrived back at Marian’s old room, I thought I would at least be able to thank him and bid him goodnight, but Sir Guy turned away as soon as we reached the door and he disappeared into the darkness of the hallway. I lingered by the door a few moments, before shrugging and lifting the bolt on the door. I pushed the door open and shivered as a gust of wind blew back the curtains covering the windows and those surrounding the bed. The rain had stopped now, but the night was dark, clouds obscuring the stars and moon; there was no hope in saddling my horse now and riding home, it was far too dangerous. I pulled the shutters closed and then the windows, covering them once more with the thick drapes. I debated whether I could put on one of my cousin’s nightdresses or just sleep in my undergarments, but I decided that sleeping in her bed was one thing, wearing her nightdress was a whole other matter. I stripped off my dress, pulled the bolt across the door and then climbed into the bed, pulling the drapes shut. I left my knife under my pillow. It took me a while to fall asleep, every small creak or the cry of an owl kept me awake and tense. How my cousin had managed to sleep here each night was beyond me. Eventually I grew too tired for even listening to the small noises outside my room. I fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! On time and everything!


	14. A Saint's Day

I woke up, outside it was still dark, but the bed was quite warm and I snuggled down further into the sheets. I stretched luxuriously, feeling strangely both wide awake and half asleep. Contentment lay over my body; all the aches and pains were gone and I sleepily rested my head against the pillow. The curtain shifted back from my bed and my cousin climbed into the other side.  
“You forgot to brush my hair, Anna.”  
I yawned, “Can’t you brush it yourself?”  
Marian shrugged, “I like it when you do it.”  
I smiled, “You’re just lazy.”  
“And you’re just mean.”  
“Where were you?” I asked.  
“I went to privy.”  
“Oh, all right.” I shut my eyes and tried to get back to sleep, but Marian rolled to her side and kept looking at me.

“What Marian?”  
“I want to talk, I don’t want to sleep.”  
I opened my eyes and sighed, there was nothing to be done, if Marian wanted to talk then we had to.  
“What is it?”  
“Who do you want to marry when you’re older?” she asked.  
I shrugged and closed my eyes once more, “I don’t know, whoever my father chooses for me.”  
“Don’t you want to choose yourself?”  
“We are ladies, we marry whoever our father chooses to advance our position.”  
“You are a lady.” she said, “I am not. My father says I may marry whomever I please.”  
“That’s because your father has no ambition. My father says he lets you have your way too often, that you will not be dutiful enough to your father or your husband when you are older.”

Marian gave me a pinch and my eyes shot open, “Ow Marian, that hurt. I’m only saying what father told me.”  
“Just because you’re such a good, dutiful daughter and you always do what everyone tells you to.”  
“My mother says…”  
“Listen to you, my mother says, my father says. Don’t you ever think for yourself, Annie?”  
I scowl at her, fold my arms and turn away from her.  
“You’re such a baby.” Marian mutters and I sniff. We lie quietly for a while, side by side, neither one of us wanting to apologise. I am better at this than Marian though, she may be older than me, but I hold onto my grudges for longer. She doesn’t like arguments and rivals. But this was something my mother taught me, ‘Never apologise for doing anything, when you do that you show you have a weakness, that you are like all other mortals. Fallible. You will do things wrongly and rightly, but you will never apologise for them.’  
“Sorry, Annie.”  
I roll back over, “That’s all right Marian, I forgive you.” She smiles and gives me a hug.  
“Good, I don’t like it when we’re not friends.”  
I smile, “Me too. So then, who do you want to marry?”  
“Do you promise not to tell?” she asks.  
“I promise.”  
She giggles and hides her face in the pillow, then looks back up, eyes bright and gleaming.  
“Robin of Locksley.”  
I frown and Marian laughs, “What don’t you approve?”  
“No, I do…it’s just…he has no position; his father has no favour at the court. He never attends court.”  
“That doesn’t matter to me.” Marian rests on her back and pulls her arms around the pillow.  
“But you are so pretty and clever, if you wanted to obtain someone who was higher up you could, easily.” I say.  
“But I don’t want to. I want to marry him.”  
“But he’s so…”   
I stop my tongue, blushing as I look towards Marian.  
“So what?”  
“So boyish.”  
She raises her eyebrow and looks bemused, “What do you mean by that? Of course he’s a boy.”  
“He’s just…he’s not…he’s not very sensible.” I say and Marian giggles again.  
“Well I can teach him to be sensible.”  
I don’t bother saying I think that’s a stupid idea, Marian would have to be a teacher who was also a Saint.  
“I know you don’t like him much.” Marian says, I shrug, it doesn’t really matter what I think. Father has told me that enough times, “But he is really nice.”  
“Mm.” I say, non-committedly. If Marian wishes to make a fool of herself by marrying a nobody she can do so.  
The silence resumes and I try to fall asleep again, but a question is buzzing around my mind.  
“Marian?”  
“Mm?”  
“Why can we never play with those two other children, the ones who live near Locksley?”  
“What ones?”  
“The Gisbornes.”  
Her eyes open and she gazes up at the ceiling, finally saying, “Robin doesn’t like them.” I scowl at this, as though Robin’s dislike is the sole reason we cannot have anything to do with them, “and I don’t think they particularly like us.”  
“Only because we always do what Robin says, if they did get to know us then maybe they would like us.”  
Marian sniggers and I become determined I will not follow Marian and Robin as I always do, while they make no effort to slow their pace or let me catch up, but I will make my way towards the Gisbornes’ home.

“You coming, Annie?” Marian asks. I blink my eyes open; finding myself sitting on the fence of Locksley hall, Marian and Robin are watching me. Robin leans against a tree; he sighs irritably and rolls his eyes. He knows that once he and Marian are running I shall not be able to keep up and he will make no effort to talk to me or even acknowledge my existence. Marian will go along with him as always.  
“No. I’m going to explore on my own today.” I say and march pass them, head held high.  
I expected them to at least make some fuss about it or beg me for a little while, but they do not. Robin grabs Marian’s hand and they both run off. I watch them leave, suddenly feeling very lonely standing by the gate. Babyish tears trickle down my face, but I wipe them away and run off in the other direction. It seems to take a long time to walk down the path; I cut through fields and make my way through small shades of woodland.  
“Multi dicunt animae meae non est salus huic in Deo semper, *But thou, O Lord, art my protector, my glory, and the lifter up of my head.* Tu autem Domine clipeus circa me gloria mea et exaltans caput meum, *I have cried to the Lord with my voice: and he hath heard me from his holy hill.* voce mea ad Dominum clamabo et exaudiet me de monte sancto suo semp. *I have slept and have taken my rest: and I have risen up, because the Lord hath protected me.*” I recite to myself, “Book of Psalms, Chapter Three.”  
I smile to myself, rather smugly truth be told, Marian doesn’t know the psalms. At least, not as well as I do. The sun flickers warmly through the trees, the path dried to dust and sticking to the edge of my skirt. I finally run round the lane and come to fields of neatly planted wheat, golden barley swaying lightly in the breeze, the leaves rustled by the air. I frown as I look around, seeing no other manor house, though I was certain it was there by that little thicket of trees and the neat row of hedges. I run down the side of the field and come across nothing, even when I mount the hill on the other side and gaze around I cannot see anything. I squint, placing my hand above my eyes and spotting a woman sitting in front of her own house, spinning wool. I run down the hill and head towards her house.

“Hello, what can I do for you Mistress Anne?” She must recognise me from playing with Marian and Robin.   
I point across the field, “There used to be a house there, I am sure of it, where did it go?”  
She smiles brightly, but I see something shift within her eyes and she returns back to her spinning, “No, I’m afraid you must have imagined that, Mistress Anne, or else you are thinking of another house. There was never one there.”  
“Yes there was, it had a boy and a girl living in it. They were older than me, older than my cousin too.”  
“No, I assure you, there wasn’t.”  
I scowl at the woman, who gives me a nervous smile and continues her spinning. I grab hold of the spinning wheel, stopping it. She glances up at me, mouth dropping open.   
I growl through clenched teeth, “You’re a liar and all liars go to Hell.”

I turn away from her and run up the pathway again, before she can say anything. I know she is lying to me, but I do not know why. When I am back at the top of the field I look down towards where the house should be, my forehead creases as I try to work out where it may have gone and why. But I feel nervous about the spinning lady; she could tell my uncle who will tell my father what I did and what I said. This is another thing adults speak about, but do not want children to know about. Especially girls. I end up spending my entire day alone, but I don’t mind. I’m too busy thinking.  
It all happened on the day I was lost. Father and mother had insisted Marian and the other children look after me, but I had followed the wrong path and soon found myself on a path I did not know and the darkness slowly gathering around me. My legs were sore and aching, I was tired and hungry. Eventually I came across a felled tree, the long trunk spread alongside the road. I sat upon it, thinking if I waited long enough someone would be sure to find me. Then I wondered if I should turn back and try to find my way home, but it would be dark before too long and I could not remember what turnings or pathways I had taken. I tried to stop crying and feeling cold, I would be like the Saints and sit on this tree trunk and pray that God would shine a light and show me the way home. But after I had sat on the log and prayed for a very, very long time no one was coming to find me and God was not shining a light to show me the path ahead I ended up weeping, which I thought was certainly not very Saint-like. I was going to die of being cold and hungry.

“You girl, what’s the matter?” I gasped and looked up, a lanky boy a little older than Robin stood in front of me, though I had not heard him walk along the pathway. I studied his dark hair and eyes, the strong position of his stance and the book under his arm. I sniffed, wiping away my tears.  
“I got lost and I don’t know where I am and mother and father and uncle will be worried. Are you an angel, because I don’t want to go anywhere with the Devil?”  
The boy smirked, “No, I’m not the Devil, nor an angel by any means. I’m Guy of Gisborne, do you want to come with me, my mother is at home and she can send a messenger to your father?”  
I wiped away my tears and then my nose on my handkerchief, I ran over to the boy and he began to walk, his long strides making me have to run to keep up. He glanced down at me and slowed his pace so I could keep up.

“Thank you. My name is Anna-Marie.” I said and something of a smile came to his face.  
“Where do you live?” he asked.  
“London.”  
“You’re very far from home then!”  
“We are visiting my uncle and cousin. My uncle is Sir Edward.” I said.  
“Ah I see. Where’s your cousin?”  
“Um…I don’t know…I’m not really sure where this is.”  
“This land belongs to us, the Gisbornes.”  
“Oh…perhaps I strayed very far then.” I glanced up at the very tall boy, then jumped when I heard the noise of a fox, his hand gently patted my back.  
“Come on, we’re nearly there.” he says and pushes me forward.

Lady Ghislaine did not seem too surprised her son had brought home a weepy, lost girl. She put a thick woollen cloak around me, gave me some bread and cheese to eat and then sent a messenger to Malcolm of Locksley and Sir Edward. We did not wait very long; Malcolm arrived at Gisborne manor with my father, who said I had nearly killed my mother with shock and made my cousin cry. I burst into tears as soon as my father threatened me with a beating, even though it was really Marian and Robin to blame. Lady Ghislaine and Lord Malcolm begged him not to and eventually my father picked me up in his arms and put me on his horse. I thanked Lady Ghislaine for her care of me and Guy for finding me. He suggested perhaps my cousin and I would like to come to Gisborne manor one day to play with his sister. I nodded, again wiping back my foolish tears.

***  
I never went back, Marian wouldn’t let me. She kept me by her side, even though she and Robin would ignore me in favour for the children of the peasants. The first time I tripped up Luke Scarlett by accident and lied about it, I learnt something of value. People place pretty girls on a pedestal, if you pretend innocence and look sweet, people will believe you are both. Luke was told not to be such a baby. So after that I tricked plenty of people, put frogs and spiders down their breeches, poured buckets of water over people’s heads – that was tricky, I had to climb into a tree, while balancing my bucket – and tripping people up was always fun, though it lost its impact after a while. The other children found it funny and would not blame me, though Robin tried on many occasions. I would let my little lip wobble and swear before God that I had not done such a thing. Thus I learnt a valuable lesson, the art of deceiving others, my ability of manipulation.  
I opened my eyes; Marian lay on the other side of the bed, again looking at me. Some years have passed, I thought. She was older, perhaps around five and twenty, we had not lain in bed like this since our girlhood; since I had seen her when I was fourteen years old and a year before my marriage to Robert.  
“Hello, cousin.” she smiled kindly, “I have missed you.”  
My eyes filled with tears and she quickly embraced me.  
“I’m sorry.” I whispered.  
“Hush, I don’t blame you.”  
“Yes, you do. As I blamed you.”  
She laughed then, “But what is the use of holding grudges?”  
“To defeat your enemies.” I muttered.  
“But doesn’t it hurt, Anna? Doesn’t it hurt to keep on hating and holding onto that anger, poisoning your soul with it?”

I wiped away my tears, “I have to, to keep my sons safe, so they have an inheritance.”  
“Hurting the man I love while you do so?” she said.  
“You know what I thought about him Marian, and can you so claim as to not have hurt Guy?” Marian drew back a little, “No, you cannot. You are as wicked as I am. Fighting for your own cause, as much as Guy and Robin fight for someone else’s.”  
She sighed, “Perhaps you should have come earlier cousin, perhaps…but then I don’t know. I don’t know how it could have been.”  
“What are you talking about?” I asked, confusion creasing my forehead.  
She smiles and shook her head, dark curls bobbing slightly, “Nothing of any importance. Too many chances are lost through what ifs. Perhaps if things were different, Guy may have fallen in love with you, rather than me, but who can say.”

I took several deep breaths, calming my nerves and tears, “I remember him, the boy on the path, he helped me…found me. What happened to him? Why did he change? He was not affable or pleasant, but he was honourable.”  
Marian gazed ahead at the curtains, the red material wavering slightly in the cool wind, though I distinctly remembered shutting the windows and shutters.  
“Many things, cousin. Too many. He lost both his mother and his father, in the same night Robin lost his. He lost his home, his fortune and land. He was flung on the bottom of the heap again…and I wish I had been kinder, I wish I had spurned his advances…I am not honourable or noble as I once thought I was.”

I lay down on the soft pillows, the warm light from Marian’s candle flickering across the drapes. She smiled down at me.  
“Please cousin, be better for me.”  
“I will try.” I whispered, I closed my eyes, tears brimming over the edge and falling down my cheeks. She blew out the candle, put it by the bed and then gave me a kiss on my cheek.  
“God bless you, Anna-Marie.”  
“And may he bless you, Marie-Anne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I still have an audience for this! It's been my final year at my University (I will miss it, but not the vast amounts of essay work I had to do!), so I'm finally able to start writing my fanfictions again and my own creative writing. I may post another chapter tomorrow, just to make up for my lack of chapters! Best wishes xx


	15. A Beauty in Scarlet

I lifted my head from the pillows, a delightful contentment falling over my body and making me curl up in the sheets. I could hear a serving maid cleaning out the fireplace and then laying it. The shutters and windows had been opened, bright sunlight gleaming on the curtains of the bed, the sounds of soldiers and the hustle and bustle of the town and courtyard reaching my ears; the shouts of men, the calling of the merchants, a clatter of hooves on cobbles. I pull open the curtains and the maid gives me a curtsey.  
“Morning, my lady. There is hot water in the jug and your horse will be saddled when you are ready to leave.”

I nod and she quickly leaves the room, I pour the water from the jug into the basin and proceed to wash my hands and face, drying them on a towel and then turning to my clothes on the chair. Unfortunately they seem to have been packed away and put in my saddle bag. It is fortunate I still kept some of my cousin’s clothes in the wardrobe, though they are mostly the ones I did not particularly like, I was going to sell them. After a while I choose a red dress with embroidery around the collar. I study myself in the mirror, I will have to hold the dress up and it is a little tight on my hips, but not too restricting or uncomfortable. I make my way down to breakfast.

“Lady Anne, don’t you look a beauty in scarlet.” the Sheriff calls to me when I arrive in the hall, “I hope you slept well.” his mouth curls into a smile and he chuckles softly. I give him my sweetest of smiles.  
“Quite well, my lord. I was not disturbed by any ghosts.”  
“Good, come and join us for breakfast then.” He gestures to the seat by Sir Guy, but I stay where I am.  
“I have ordered my horse saddled my lord, I must return to the household and assure them of my safety and wellbeing.”  
“I sent a messenger this morning.” Vaisey pouts and throws me a sour look, but a little smile dawns on my lips.  
“Forgive me, my lord. But I speak mostly of my son; he will be worried for me.”  
Vaisey waves his hand as though he cares not much for me or my son. He bites into a chicken leg.  
“Very well, be on your way. Adieu Lady Anne.”  
“Au revoir, Sir Vaisey. Good day, my lords.” I curtsey. Sir Guy remains looking at me, he does not appear overly concerned with the food on his plate and after I turn, I hide the smirk on my lips, and walk back down the hall, hips swaying with every step. There is a soft chuckle behind me, and as I walk out of the door, I see Vaisey whispering something to Sir Guy, while keeping his eyes upon me and holding back laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters coming right up! As this one is short. Thank you for everyone whose left reviews or kudos, they make my little heart sing!


	16. Guy's Mind III

Vaisey leans over to me as I watch her go, he smiles, “Pretty little whore, isn’t she?”  
I stiffen and Vaisey’s grin grows wider, “Oh she’s a French tart, alright. She knows how to play her cards, how to get a man promising her the stars, moon and his whole castle by the end of the evening.”  
I take a drink, “I am not so easily won over by a whore’s tricks.”  
“You were won over by Marian’s and she did not have half the tricks as this French Lady does. You saw that little sway in her stride, she doesn’t do that by accident, she knows what it does to a man.” Vaisey leeringly glances down to my groin, I shift uncomfortably in the chair and he sniggers.  
“Will you deny yourself, Sir Guy? Deny you don’t want to pin her to this table and ravish that soft, pale body.”   
I cannot help myself; I see her stretched along the table, supple skin under my hands, her legs bent upwards and open. The deep breaths of desire, making her chest rise and fall. Her eyes dark with longing, mouth parched. Her nipples harden under my fingers, dark pink, taking one in my mouth and hearing her little pants of need; her gasping voice begging me to take her.

I get up, “I must see to the guards, my lord.” I manage to say through gritted teeth.  
Vaisey cackles, “Very well, Gizzy, go see to the guards and then the tightening in your breeches.”  
I do not wait for him to mock me any further; I bow swiftly and march from the room.  
I do not allow myself the pleasure of relieving my aching need, though my cock throbs and the idea of pushing it into her warm, wet cunt makes me bury my face in the pillow. I long to deal with this quickly, but I allow myself to feel the pain, to wait until my desire has subsided, even though my head aches and I drink deeply from the pitcher of wine by my bed. I long to sleep. I convince myself I have no desire for Marian’s cousin, it would bring shame to her memory if I did. If I so readily replaced one woman with another, and worse still with her cousin. I was convinced I hated the Lady Anne, my body reacted so forcefully against her, but I knew it each time I pushed her up against the wall and those bright eyes showed no measure of fear. They showed understanding, a knowing of how I felt and it horrified me, though I knew not why. It was only when she arched her hips against mine and a longing burned deep inside me, to pick her up, fling her on the desk and bury myself inside her, marking her as my own. Biting her neck, tasting her mouth. She knew. I fear even Vaisey knew. But I will not grant the little slut that measure of pride, I may desire her, as all men desire the Devil, but I can resist it and I will.


End file.
